Amazing Grace
by Berytni
Summary: In those nine months Tina learned, never say it won't happen to you - because it just very well might.
1. You Found Me

**A/N: This file has been saved on my computer as "_tinaartiepreggers_" for about five months now and I've decided to give it a whirl. Chapter two is already in the making. Hooray! Anyways, enjoy.  
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After I got sick on my way to second period, Mercedes escorted me down to the nurse's office. Although the contents of my stomach landed on a jock that ruined a favorite blouse of mine with a grape slushie, I still felt miserable and humiliated about the whole situation. All but one percent of McKinley High School was laughing or scowling in disgust, and that included teachers and staff.

The nurse however was much more sympathetic towards me, although she probably saw similar cases every day. A fresh covering was placed over one of the plain cots available for students. The room was dark, chilly, and although everything _looked_ perfectly clean, I couldn't help but ponder over the smell that filled my nostrils. With my feet towards the door, I laid down on my side as my stomach continued to twist and turn. It didn't help that my mouth tasted horrible and my throat burned from the stomach acid that followed my upchuck.

"Tina, does this belong to you?" The nurse asked from behind a boy in a wheelchair – _my_ boy in a wheelchair.

"Artie!" I proclaimed with a weak smile.

"Hey." He said looking back at the nurse. She flew her hands from the back of Artie's chair and wandered back to her office around the corner.

"I heard you got sick." Artie said locking his chair in place adjacent to my bedside and placing his hands in his lap.

"All over Karofsky too." I said with a faint smirk.

"That's my girl." He chuckled bringing his hand up for a high five.

I unfolded an arm from my chest and softly touched the palm of her hand to his. Before he had the chance to return his hand back to his lap, I bent my fingers over into the spaces that his created, and brought both of our hands down to the mattress.

At that moment, the bell for fourth period rang. Artie frowned and glanced back at the clock as if to contradict the bell schedule. I knew that legally, he had all the time he needed to get to class, but he was too good of a person to take advantage of it.

"I gotta go." He sighed.

"Okay." I softly reasoned.

"I'll come back during lunch."

He bent at the waist, sweetly kissed my forehead, and gave me hand a final squeeze before taking off for his next class. I followed him with my eyes as he effortlessly wheeled himself out of the nurse's office and into the crowded hallway.

"Such a nice boy." The nurse said wiping an alcohol pad over the end of a thermometer as she walked into my room. "Shame he gets picked on so much."

"You _know_ about that?" I asked sitting up on the back of my forearms.

"Oh sweetie, I know everything." She said holding up the thermometer to my face.

"Great." I dryly said taking the instrument and sticking it under my tongue before falling back onto my pillow.

Before Artie's lunch period, I wandered off to the bathroom across the hall to make myself look presentable. I knew he didn't care less what I looked like, but absolutely did. My cheeks were flushed of their color and my hair was matted, but the thing that caught my attention the most was the reflection of a poster on the opposite wall. It was a plain colored placard with a side view of a cartoon drawing of a pregnant woman.

_The First Signs of Pregnancy brought to you by the Advocacy Center of Columbus._

For some reason I was compelled to read on – probably because I was getting tired of looking at my sickly face. The first bullet on the page read, _Nausea, with or without vomiting_. I smirked at the irony and continued with the list: _fatigue, high temperature, lower back pain…_

My heart, for a second I swore, stopped beating. I gulped down the fact that I had every single one of those symptoms, but then realized that I was probably over analyzing things. _I -_Tina Cohen-Chang was _not_ pregnant – Artie and I were almost too careful about that kind of thing.

"Tina, are you alright?"

"What? Yeah…fine. I'll be right out." I said looking over my shoulder at the closed door.

Artie was already parallel parked next to my assigned cot when I returned to the familiar and chilly room. The corners of my mouth briefly rose as I slowly toddled down the length of the room to meet him. All it took was a cheery grin from his perfect set of teeth to break me out my silent shell.

"Hi Artie." I smiled back, sitting on the edge of the cot next to him.

"Feeling any better?" He questioned.

"Eh, I guess." I shrugged, pulling myself to the opposite end of the bed where the pillow was.

Using the wall as a backrest, I sat up with my legs straight out in front of me. Artie transferred to the cot and arranged his lower appendages across the width of the mattress. He took my ankles one by one and laid my calves over his lap. With a brown-bagged lunch on one side and an open textbook on the other, Artie quietly hummed to himself as he kneaded at my ankles.

Artie wasn't very talkative, and it only left my mind open to mess with itself. As I watched him read and pick at a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I couldn't help but question the occupancy of my female parts – it would have been his after all. Violently shaking my head, as if to force the idea out of my mind, I told myself to stop thinking such thoughts. Artie looked up from his read and rose on eyebrow above his glasses. I could have sworn that I saw him glance down at my stomach, which sent me over the edge.

"God damn it, stop _staring_ at me."

The moment I finished yelling at him, I covered my mouth in regret with both hands. His eyes were wide, his shoulders shrunk into his body, and his head hung as if he actually did something wrong.

"Oh Artie, I'm sorry." I said, walking a hand out to capture one of his.

"It's okay…you don't feel well." He shrugged – obviously still taken back.

Before I could argue how being sick wasn't an excuse for me to yell at him, the bell rang for ninth period. Instead of carting his chair over, he used his arms to heave himself to the end of the bed I was at before plopping next to me.

"Screw Business Law." He said.

"Artie!" I scolded – not that I was complaining.

"I'm two lessons ahead anyways." He shrugged as if it were nothing.

"Geek." I teased, squeezing between his arm and ribcage.

After school, I made it my mission to find Quinn. Although I was doubtful, I needed first hand experience and advice on the subject. I found her at her locker, pulling her lavender blonde hair into a loose ponytail.

"Can I ask you a question?" I inquired, walking up to her.

"Sure" She smiled, closing her locker and picking up her playfully striped backpack.

"What does it feel like…to be – pregnant?" I asked as we walked together down the English wing.

"You must be doing that project on female anatomy in health." She chuckled, looking up at the ceiling. "You fell disgustingly bloated _all the time_, I remember having a big sensitivity to the smell of oranges too – just the look of them made me want to throw up."

"Oranges?" I laughed.

"Oranges." She assured, looking out of the top rights of her eyes

"What if I told you that I took health my junior year?" I asked after a pause.

"Tina…do you…." She asked.

"I don't _think_ so, but Quinn I'm scared." I answered, stopping.

"Sweetie, look at me." Quinn said putting her hand on my shoulder. "I'll go with you down to the drug store, and you can take a test in the bathroom there. Everything will be okay."

I couldn't even look the man at the counter in the eye as I paid for the second cheapest home pregnancy test I could find. Quinn held my hand all the way to the customer bathroom across the store. I was so nervous that I could barely open the small cardboard box with my shaky hands. Wanting the results to be as accurate as possible, I followed the instructions _exactly_.

"Tina?" Quinn asked knocking at the door.

"I'm only waiting, come in." I said.

Although the cleanliness of the tile floor was questionable, Quinn sat down against the wall next to the toilet where I sat. The clean end of the test was held out in front of my body, in both of our views.

"Okay. It's been five minutes." I said pulling over the box for the key on the back.

"So?" Quinn asked pulling her knees to her chest.

"I-I'm pregnant."


	2. Here Comes Goodbye

**A/N: So, um - wow, you guys rock! Because of that I'm gonna start chapter three the second I finish writing this little love note. Thank you! To answer _Midnight Chocolate_, I usually like staying constant when it comes to POV, but I've considered an epilogue from Artie's. We'll just have to see, won't we. :)**

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Against Quinn's wishes, because she was perfectly willing to drive me, I decided to walk home. She was right to be doubtful; I almost got run over by a taxicab while thinking about how I was going to tell Artie, let alone my parents, that I was with child. With that – I took my time on getting home. The sky was royal blue and stars were peaking out from behind clouds by the time I walked though the front door. Mom was at the end of our dining room table with a glass of wine and a magazine spread out before her.

"It's not like you to be out this late." She observed, looking at me from over her reading glasses. "Everything alright?"

"Just lost track of time, that's all." I covered up, shaking my head.

"Oh – well there's a plate for you in the fridge. Green bean casserole."

"Thanks." I smiled.

The china plate covered in plastic wrap was on top of the original dish itself. I wasn't a big fan of green beans, but anything looked appetizing at that point…especially because the only food I took in that day was upchucked by second period.

I took the chilled plate of mushy green beans upstairs to avoid interrogation. Mom knew something was up, and she was one of the few people I couldn't keep secrets from for long. Anyways, Artie deserved to be the first, aside from Quinn, to know. He _was_ the father, which as odd as the thought sounded in my head, was nonetheless true.

After placing my dinner on the surface of my bed, I walked across the room for the cordless telephone atop my desk. Folding one leg under my body, I sat down on the middle of the twin-sized mattress. I stared at the orange glowing buttons, numbered zero to nine, for a good five minutes until I snapped out of my own trance. Keeping my secret from him any longer was almost sinful.

Before dialing, I thought about what I going to say, but nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to tell him. I've called Artie's number, one of the few I knew by heart, in high spirits and during the lowest of my low, and there I was frightened out of my mind. Each ring of the phone in my ear made me just want to scream and hang up, but there was no way to avoid the situation – he had to know.

"Hey girl."

"H-hi."

"Tina, are you okay?" Artie asked; his voice filled with concern.

"Y-yea…no." I sniffed, holding back a flood.

"You're not sick again, are you?"

"No, no. Artie, I have to tell you something." I said taking a stuffed animal from the head of my bed and holding it in my lap.

"My god, what is it?" He inquired.

"Artie, I…I'm – Artie I'm breaking up with you."

"W-what?"

"I'm so sorry." I choked, pressing end.

I violently chucked the phone across the room and buried my face into my knees. That was downright the stupidest thing I had ever done, even more so then faking a stutter longer then Artie's been in a wheelchair. I needed him now more then ever, the last thing I wanted to do was to go our separate ways. Keeping my knees tucked to my chest, I rolled onto my side, just barely missing my pillow. So my mother wouldn't come upstairs, I silently cried into the back of my teddy bear, but all I wanted to do was bawl and yell.

After crying to the point no more tears would come out, I sat up and brought myself together. My pillow was stained with blotches of black and purple, but that was the least of my problems. I thought about calling Artie again to take back my words and spill out my guts, but I couldn't bring myself to doing so. Hearing his desolate voice probably would have sent me over the edge.

If necessary, I'd take him tomorrow by the chair and lock him in a janitors closet with me until everything was okay again – or as okay as things _could_ be while pregnant one's senior year.


	3. Be Okay

There wasn't much Artie could do about changing his route to each class given that wheelchair accessibility was limited, but he sure as hell tried everything in his power to avoid me. He didn't even bother coming to lunch, and although I couldn't blame him for refusing to breathe the same air I did, it totally broke my heart to be in such a state with him. Our relationship hadn't been in so much jeopardy since I confessed about my stutter – and that was two years ago.

After school I sat outside the computer lab where, to my advantage, AV club was being held. A Kodak paper photograph lay spread across the combination of my two palms together. It was one that I often kept with me, and because of that, a distinct crease went across its middle for easy hiding. Our signature smiles said it all, especially the way he had both arms wrapped around my waist from the side of his chair. The photograph was an incentive, another push to make things right again.

After banging my head against the locker behind me, the door I had been sitting next to for thirty-seven minutes, finally swung inwards. I picked my head up and watched eight or nine pairs of pleated khakis with a variety of shoes, pass by my face. None of them I cared for except the said ensemble that included a red-framed wheelchair and sunshine colored gloves.

"Hey." I softly said.

"Don't even talk to me." He lifelessly said, turning away from me without hesitation.

"Artie wait…Artie!" I called, pushing myself off the ground.

It didn't take him long to speed up, and my power walk turned into a full-fledged run. Even with unsupportive flats on my feet, I caught up to Artie quickly. It was one of the only times where I was _thankful_ that he was confined to a wheelchair, for I was by no means an athlete.

"Artie _stop_." I insisted, making my way to the front of his chair and placing my hands firmly around both armrests.

"Please step aside, Tina." He demanded, looking at me from over the rims of his eyewear.

"No." I strongly said, looking him dead in the eye. "Art, I have to tell you something."

"I don't have time for this." He said, wiggling away from my grip and detouring around me. I hang my head and piled my hands atop my still moderately flat abdomen - keeping my back towards him as he fled.

"I'm pregnant."

The rattling of his wheels came to a sudden mute.

"Don't toy with me like that, Tina." He dryly laughed, circling one hundred eighty degrees before pushing himself towards me twice. Biting one side of my bottom lip, I too turned around. At first I avoided direct eye contact by looking down at my feet, but then I brought my eyes up to meet his.

"You're…serious."

"I meant to tell you last night – but, but I panicked…and broke up with you instead."

His silence afterwards was even more painful then admitting the truth itself. Keeping his head down at a forty-five degree angle, his gaze followed a similar path. His eyes, usually filled with happiness and light, were pooling with panic. It was almost as if the only function his nervous system could handle was the flickering of his eyelids.

"Tina I-I'm so sorry." He said in a low voice, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head.

"Why are _you_ apologizing?" I lightheartedly asked, taking a few steps forward.

"Because this is my fault - I did this to you."

He took full responsibility, which I had to give him credit for, but it was unnecessary. After all, it did take two to tango. Not knowing what else to do, I spontaneously locked his chair in place, and threw my arms around his broad shoulders – bending at my middle. Artie locked his wrists behind the small of my back, pulling me closer as I pressed the right side of my face to his chest. Feeling my emotions ready to spill, I brought my right leg up and tucked it under me as I placed myself in his lap.

"You're alright." He softly shushed, running a hand up and down my back as I silently cried into the curve of his neck. I was seventeen, and pregnant two months into my senior year – "alright" wasn't exactly the correct adjective to describe the situation. With that in mind, I shook my head, burying my face into the collar of his shirt.

Because there were fifteen minutes before his dad was to pick him up, Artie and I went down to the auditorium once I calmed down. It was a place we both trusted, and the chance that other people would be there was slim. We took the back entrance that led directly to the stage. The large room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop and so dark that I couldn't tell stage from thin air. Despite its mysterious atmosphere, I wandered aimlessly forward across the theater until the house lights magically appeared.

"I'd say let's put together a musical number that describes our situation…but that's not gonna make it go away." Artie said rolling over to the piano.

"Oh Artie, what are we gonna do?" I asked, taking a seat on the piano bench.

"I-I don't know." He coldly said, shaking his head. "But I wanna be perfectly clear."

_Oh Lord_.

"I'm not gonna let you do this alone." He said reaching for both of my hands.

"Thank you." I said squeezing his hands.

"I mean…it _is_ mine right?"

"Yes." I snickered, rolling my eyes.

"Hey, just making sure."

Although I knew he wouldn't leave me in the dark, having Artie say that he'd absolutely help me though it all was what I needed to hear. He was responsible, which helped make be believe that things were going to be okay.


	4. Love Save the Empty

Friday evening consisted of re-watching my favorite episodes from season one of True Blood and giving myself a full pedicure to match my finger nails. To make myself feel better, I bought a new shade to add to my collection of polishes called _mellow yellow_. When dry - it reminded me of summer, and with the first day of winter around the corner, we all needed a little sunshine.

Half way finished with my right foot, the phone rang. Screwing the top back on the small glass container and placing it on a flat surface, I reached back towards the head of my bed to see if the caller was worth putting my beauty regimen on hold for.

"Hey, you." I beamed, tucking the phone between my shoulder and jaw line.

"Hey…you doing anything tonight?" Artie asked.

"Not _yet_." I answered.

"This week's been insane…wanna come over and just unwind? Maybe rent a couple bad movies off Netflix?"

"That sounds great, Art." I sweetly chucked, swinging my legs over the edge of my bed.

"See you soon?" He inquired.

"Very soon."

After hanging up the phone, I threw on a pair of gray cotton socks to cover up my unfinished, but dry, paint job. I grabbed my soft black sweatshirt with the cat ears on the hood from the back of my computer chair before opening my bedroom door.

Mom was lounged out on the green three-cushion couch with a blanket draped over her legs and a modest bowl of popcorn in her lap. From the looks of it, she was watching a movie from our infamous collection.

"You headed out?" She asked, pausing her viewing selection.

"Just Artie's." I said, zipping up the front of my hoodie.

"Better bundle up, it's chilly."

"Sure thing, mom." I said plopping the hood of my sweatshirt over my head as I slithered out the front door.

Because of Artie's condition, my parents just assumed that he was _completely_ paralyzed from the waist down – which was probably why they allowed me over to his house so often without a single question posed. They didn't ask, so I didn't tell…plus it wasn't like they were going to call his family and ask how sexually functional their paraplegic son was. Either way, within the next couple months – their theory was going to be proved drastically wrong.

Artie's mother answered the door so quickly that I swore she stood by and waited for me to arrive. She knew, she totally knew – I could tell by the way her eyes drifted down to my abdomen, and how they shot back up to my face with an innocent smile once I caught her staring. _Oh boy_. After a brief salutation, I awkwardly stepped past the parental figure, and fled to Artie's bedroom.

"Coming in." I quickly said, twisting the brass doorknob.

"Knock much?" A shirtless Artie asked, turning ninety degrees to face me.

"Oh please." I said, rolling my eyes and shutting the door behind me. "I'm pregnant, remember? That's like…surefire proof that I've in fact seen you naked before, Art."

I took a seat on his twin-sized mattress, and giggled to myself at his loss for words and rosy red cheeks as he turned to face the opposite direction. With my cat ear hood still covering the back of my skull, I pulled my legs up onto the bed, and crossed them in front of me. Artie selected a gray cotton T-shirt from the top of the neatly organized laundry basket in the corner of his bedroom, and threw it over his head. With his back still towards me, he pulled the fabric over his abdomen, and layered the hem over the elastic waistband of his patterned Xbox logo pajamas bottoms.

"Artie, did you tell your mom about…you know?" I asked.

"Last night after physical therapy. Why?" He answered, turning to face me.

"Kinda got the impression the second I walked though the door." I said narrowing my eyes.

"She's cool, Tina." He assured.

"I'm terrified, no - mortified to tell my own." I admitted, shaking my head.

"Well what's gonna happen when you start showing, or need to see a Obstetrician?"

"Artie, you're not helping!" I sighed, placing my hand on the sides of my face.

"I'm sorry." He identified, pushing himself across the hardwood floor until he was seated in front of me. "But you just have to do it, Tee"

"What if they kick me out on the street?"

"Then you'll stay here." He quickly responded, taking my hands into his own. "My whole family supports us. Sure they're a little disappointed, but everyone makes mistakes, and they understand that."

I swallowed a lump in my throat and vaguely nodded. Artie's face softened and he leaned forward, moving his hands slightly up my forearms. He sweetly kissed me with tenderness and assurance – an obvious attempt to make me stop thinking about the contents of my uterus and just be happy again.

"Move over please?" He asked, pulling away and returning his hands to his lap.

Locking his chair at an angle to the bed, he smoothly transferred to a spot adjacent to me. Without reasoning, he pulled himself to the head of his bed and lied himself down along its length – holding his arms out to invite me between them. I smiled widely and laid down in the place where I fit the best, placing my hands on Artie's T-shirted chest.

"So what will we be watching tonight, Miss Cohen-Chang?" He asked brushing hair out of my face.

"Could we just lie here?" I asked looking up at him with defeated eyes.

"Of course." He mouthed, kissing my forehead.

In his arms, I rolled onto my other side and pressed my back against his front. Artie repositioned his top arm so that it was in the curve of my waist. One of my hands subconsciously lingered over my abdomen; it wasn't long before another's met that very hand, and there we lay – the three of us.


	5. Confession

**A/N: Sorry! I was on vacation with the family. However, I kept a notebook with me and worked on this whenever I could. Heck...I even started chapter six in the car. Chyea! **

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Most of my free time, following the day my pregnancy test came back positive, was spent at the Abrams household. Every member of Artie's family was supportive – especially his mother, whom already gave me a list of prenatal vitamins. My parents thought nothing of all the extra time I spent at Artie's, but that was simply because I told them that I was getting extra calculus tutoring from my favorite math wiz.

The morning sickness became less frequent, but it was even more horrible when it did come. It got to the point where a few times I was forced to skip class because I was so sick. However, I never returned to the nurse's office. No one else besides Quinn and obviously Artie knew, and I intended to keep it that way for a while.

Wearing loose fitting clothing to cover my tiny baby bump, which really only looked like I had been overeating a bit, I sat on the tiled floor of the girls bathroom hunched over a toilette. The whole getting sick at school business was getting _really_ old.

When I heard the door swing open and saw shiny cherry red flats proudly walk in, I stood up and did a quick self tidying before emerging out of the stall as if nothing out of the ordinary happened inside.

"Hello Tina," Rachel Berry said, taking a tube of clear lip-gloss out of her pocket, and applying a thin layer in front of a mirror.

"Hi," I nervously said, shuffling my feet.

She continued to fluff her chocolate brown locks and smiled in satisfaction once her appearance was perfect. However, her smile turned upside-down once she noticed the unflushed toilette with the contents of my stomach in the bowl in the mirrors reflection.

"It's not what it looks like," I panicked, following Rachel to the bathroom stall that I was previously in.

"Throwing up after meal, baggy clothes," she observed. "Tina, it's obvious to me; having gone though such a dilemma myself, that you're throwing up intentionally because of a problem with your boby image. Now what I suggest is a-"

"Rachel, I don't have an eating disorder," I interrupted with almost a chuckle.

"Tina it's okay, you can tell me," Rachel said, putting her hand on my shoulder.

"I promise you Rachel – it's _nothing_ like that," I lightheartedly assured.

Rachel raised an eyebrow at me, for she totally knew I was hiding something. As a drama queen herself, she was usually quite aware when it was at hand, and because of that I left the girls bathroom before she could get anything else out of me. Although the truth was yet to come, I figured Rachel Berry thinking was bulimic was better then her knowing that I was with child.

I still hadn't told my family, which Artie was less then pleased about and reminded me to do so four or five times a week. It was different for him though, he was close to his parents…especially his mom. Honestly, I was terrified of what my parents would say…or do – but I even more so of their disappointment in me.

But despite my fear, I knew they had to know. After an hour-long pep-talk over the phone with Artie, I thought I was ready to confess. However, when I saw my mother putting away silverware from the dishwasher, I panicked and U-tuned on my heal in an attempt to escape.

"Hi Tina," mom said, going up on her toes to put away a water glass - stopping me in my tracks.

"Hi mom," I quietly said, turning around.

"I miss my daughter," she said with a chuckle. "Stay for dinner?"

"What'cha making?" I asked swinging my arms as I walked across the kitchen.

"Gunkan Sushi," she smiled. I bit my lip. Although it was one of my favorite dishes, raw dish was on the _long_ list Artie's mother gave me of foods to avoid eating while pregnant.

"I have to tell you something," I quickly said, tensing up the top half of my face.

"Honey, what is it?" She asked with concern, pulling her black apron over her head.

"I'm pregnant," I wept. Being blunt was the only thing that would cut it with my mother.

"Very funny, Tina. You'll do the Soap Network wonders one day," she lightheartedly laughed, folding her apron.

"You, you think I'm _kidding_?" I asked, pointing to my chest.

"Sweetheart, Artie's-" She started.

"An L-4…fully functional." I added, with a shrug. At least she didn't think I was low enough to cheat on him.

"Are you _sure_ you're pregnant?" She asked after a pause, crossing her arms over her chest.

I pressed my lips together, tilted my chin down, and gripped the edge of my oversized sweatshirt. After a deep breath, I lifted the front of my shirt up to the under-wire of my bra to reveal my bulging belly. Mom stared blankly at my bare stomach with her piercing brown eyes.

"You're not mad, are you?" I asked, letting my shirt fall back over my waistband.

"Well I'm not exactly pleased, Tina. I thought you were smarter then this," she said.

"We _were_ smart mom – always."

She stayed quiet, and it was the awkward kind of quiet that felt like it would last forever if I wasn't the one to verbalize first.

"C-can I still live here?" I quietly asked, barely breaking the silence.

"Oh sweetheart of course, you're our daughter, we love you," she said after a pause, stepping forward for a big hug. "And family sticks together."


	6. Hope for the Hopeless

**A/N: Second time posting this chapter, for I realized the URL or something had an error (honestly, I have no idea). _I _couldn't even get to it, so here we are, and hopefully this one works. Okay, no more rambling - enjoy and thank you for reading.  
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**The next morning, I caught my mother on the telephone with an Obstetrician (a doctor for 'one whom is pregnant' according to Artie). My guess was that she wanted to make sure that I was _really _pregnant, and not some sort of crazy. In a way, she was even deeper in denial about the baby then I was. With a towel wrapped around my head, I stood in the doorway that lead into the kitchen as I listened to my mother's responses to the person on the other end.

"Get ready, we have to be downtown in an hour," she said hanging up the corded telephone.

"Its Wednesday…I have to be at _school_ in an hour," I said, shaking my head.

"Honey, it's the only time I could get you in on such a short notice," she said.

With an aggravated sigh, I rolled my eyes, and turned back around towards the bedrooms. Sloppily throwing my towel in the hamper, I shook out my damp mess of hair. The streaks, once colorful and vibrant, were faded into the back velvet shade I was born with. It was something new I was trying, plus Kurt threatened that my hair would be damaged forever if I continued to dye it so frequently.

Before the task left my mind, I quickly typed a message to Artie's cell phone letting him know that I'd be absent that morning, if not the rest of the day. However, I didn't tell him the reason – for it was too much to explain with a five hundred-character limit.

It wasn't until I stepped into the doctor's office, did my nerves catch up with me. I was the only unwed teenage mother to be, and it was obvious as day. Spread out about the eggshell white waiting room were three different couples waiting to be seen by one of the two practicing doctors. Although one woman smiled sweetly as I followed my mother to the front desk, I couldn't help but feel judged by every set of eyes in the room.

Mom took a seat next to a potted plant, and grabbed an outdated magazine to flip though. I kept my cell phone in my lap, and every couple minutes I'd flip it open to check the time or see if Artie got my message.

"Cohen-Chang?"

The room that my mother and I were taken to was like any other stereotypical exam room – white walls, beige counters, and small accents of ocean blue here and there. I was told to lie down, and I did so on the fancy looking cot next to an obnoxiously large ultrasound machine. A man in a white coat and a stethoscope around his neck came into the room shortly after we arrived ourselves.

"Good morning, Miss. Tina." He said looking at the clipboard that rested on his forearm. "How about we take a look at what's going on in there."

'O-okay." I shyly agreed.

After I pulled up my T-shirt up to the bottom of my ribcage, a clear gel was spread like jam over the surface of my abdomen. My only complaint was the gel's cool temperature that sent a brief chill though my body, however, I didn't vocalize it.

"Well there's definitely a baby in there." He almost chuckled after scrolling my stomach with a probe.

I twisted my neck to look at the flat screen monitor to the right of me. The picture was black and white, and it never seemed to stop moving. In the middle of the screen was a black oval, and in that black oval was a gray and white shape that almost resembled a deformed Lima bean.

"You look around eight or nine weeks pregnant, so it's hard to say the gender, but-"

"Wait…that-that's my baby?" I asked with a smile.

"Yes ma'am. See? That's its head…arm…spinal cord."

"Artie would kill to see this," I sighed with a smile as I stared up at the monitor.

"I can print off a picture or two, if you'd like..."

"Please!" I said with excitement.

My little Lima bean was healthy from what the doctor could tell, and I walked out of that building with the biggest smile on my face as I held two black and white photos to my chest. Although my mom suggested getting ice cream in celebration, I asked for a rain check…I just couldn't wait any longer to show Artie the ultrasound.

With the pictures in the front pocket of my messenger bag along with an attendance note, I made my way to the nurses office to hand in my excuse of why I was late. Walking around a corner, I saw my favorite father to be rummaging though his bottom locker. With a smirk on my face, I tiptoed over to him and playfully tapped a finger on his shoulder.

"Hey, I've been looking for you all day!" He said, turning ninety degrees towards me.

"Didn't you get my text?" I asked.

"What text?"

Rolling my eyes, I lightheartedly sighed, and helped myself to the contents of his front right pant pocket. Unlocking his phone, I held it up to his face – "_(1) Message – TinaC3" _

"What?" He squeaked. "It's not like I can feel it vibrate."

"Oh fine," I said, returning his phone. "But to answer your question, I went to the doctors today."

I unzipped the pocket of my messenger bag with the pictures, I took one of them out, and placed it in the palm of one of his gloved hands.

"Is this-" He started.

"Mhmm," I grinned with a nod.

His speechlessness was absolutely adorable, and as he continued to stare at the picture, his smile grew bigger and bigger. Both of our feelings, however, were depicted though the hug and kiss that followed. And although I'd never confront him about it, I swear I saw a tear trail down his cheek...and that's how I knew, even that early on, that Artie Abrams would be a spectacular father.


	7. Lean on Me

Getting dressed in morning became a struggle that absolutely didn't look forward to every night before I went to sleep. My fun patterned skinny jeans and colorful plaid skirts no longer fit properly, and things only got worse with time. No longer did I feel confident as I walked down the halls of McKinley – my fashion choices were how I expressed myself, and sweatpants just didn't do that for me.

When I ran out of shirts and dresses that hid my baby bump well, I ran to Quinn the following afternoon sporting an oversized yellow cardigan that I found under my bed. It was Artie's, and because of his broad build, it ran large enough on me to cover my fourteen-week bulge.

"Quinn, I need your help," I said coming up from behind her top locker.

"You okay?" She asked, tilting her head.

"I'm having a hard time finding clothes that…cover," I quietly said, briefly glancing around me.

"Looks like you're doing fine," she smiled, giving me a full body scan. "Cute sweater, by the way."

"It's Artie's," I said with an awkward smile.

"Oh," she said dropping her voice and smile.

"What do I do?" I asked, shaking my head.

Her face contorted with empathy before she looked down at the floor with her sweet and branded smile. Closing her locker, Quinn linked an arm with mine, and escorted me down the math wing.

"We'll have a girls outing – you and me. You'll be amazed by the tricks to make that little bump disappear in an instant," she said.

"Really? You'll help me?" I asked.

"Of course! I've been there, I know what you're going though…and it's hell," she lightheartedly said.

"T-thank you," I said.

"Meet me at my car at 2:30pm," she said before patting my shoulder and changing her course.

Quinn and I never had been super close, but I was relived that she was willing to aid me though this. Artie was wonderful, but there was only so much he could understand. Like the week before, I was a poignant wreak. Everything made me want to cry, and although I was an emotional person in the first place, it was over kill. He tried though, and when I wasn't a hormone crazed bitch and could think straight, I gave him at least some credit for that.

After my last class of the day I met Artie, like always, for a goodbye kiss before going out to meet Quinn. Once in the car, I once again expressed my gratitude for her kindness, but she shook her head with a smile and told me that's what friends were for. The rest of the car ride was filled with small talk and soft pop music in the background. Considering Lima was a small place, getting to the mall took almost no time, which was one of the advantages of living in a cow town.

"I didn't know this store sold maternity attire," I said as Quinn led me by the wrist into a popular clothing store.

"It doesn't," she smiled, looking back at me.

"But-" I started as Quinn let go of my wrist and paraded towards a rack.

"Maternity clothing makes you _look _pregnant…for now you can just go a couple sizes bigger and choose flattering styles," she said holding up a bubble gum pink blouse and folding it over her forearm in approval.

She spent a good ten minutes looking around the store before handing me a collection of hangers. I briefly looked at the garments in my hands and raised an eyebrow at Quinn, for most of her choices were bright colored and frilly.

"These…aren't really my style," I said.

"Nonsense – go!" She said, pushing me in the direction of the dressing rooms.

With a disgusted sigh, I took the first outfit she created off the top and held it up to my body. The elastic waists Capris were key lime green and the blouse was white with a swoop neck. This wasn't going to be pretty.

"How's it going?" Quinn asked knocking on the door.

"If you think I'm coming out in this, you are _mistaken_," I said looking at myself in the mirror from behind my shoulder.

"Oh come on, I bet you look wonderful," she said.

"No."

"_Please_?"

"Fine."

I opened the door and took one step out. Granted, she was right about the slimming affect of the baby doll top – it just wasn't _me_. I blew a faded blue streak out of my hair and stared Quinn down.

"Okay, okay," she laughed slipping into the dressing room to remove the similar fashions she picked out. "You're right."

After that, shopping with Quinn became a lot less painful, and I left the mall feeling confident about the four or five outfits she helped me put together. With her help, I'd be able to keep my pregnancy a secret from the school a couple months longer. We had dinner at the mall, my treat because I insisted, before she drove me home.

My parents were still at work when I walked though the door, so I went straight up to my bedroom after grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. I laid out my new articles of clothing on the bed and put them away one by one, removing the price tags and size stickers as needed, while listening to the _favorites_ playlist on my mp3 player.

Only at 10:00pm did I start writing the five-page essay that was due the next day for economics. I didn't mean to procrastinate, although don't ask Artie's opinion, it's just that I was so consumed with the fact that I'm having a _baby_ that I just – forgot. Grabbing my notes, I slid into my office chair and typed away. Normally I'd call Artie for help, but I wasn't in the mood to be preached to. After three hours of spitting out four and a half pages of pure bull shit, I printed out my semi-intelligent sounding paper about conspiracy theories of the Great Depression.

_You know what sounds great? A blue raspberry slushie._

Putting a pink paperclip on my paper for style points, I slid it into my black and red polka-dotted economics folder. At least it _looked_ like a quality paper that I put sweat and blood into.

_Okay, I need a blue raspberry slushie. NOW._

So _that's_ what a craving feels like, holy hell. Closing my messenger bag, I sat on my bed and thought about what to do. Mom once said that when she was pregnant with me, all she craved was asparagus, and her body wouldn't let her sleep until she got some. _That_ I didn't want to risk. I had school tomorrow and coffee was a no-no. There was a seven-eleven a few miles from my house, but being pregnant and seventeen, I didn't want to go alone – so I pressed number two on my speed dial list.

"Hello?" A _very_ delirious sounding Artie asked after five rings.

"Art, it's me," I said.

"What time is it?" He yawned.

"Uhhh, 1:05am. Listen Artie, I need your help," I said.

"The baby's not coming, is it?" He asked

"No, but-" I started.

"Then I'm going back to sleep."

"Arthur, no…stay with me here," I persisted.

"Tina," he groaned.

"I'm having a craving – a really bad craving," I said.

"For _what_?"

"A blue raspberry slushie."

"Good lord," he sighed.

"Come with me to seven-eleven?" I asked. "Please? I don't wanna go alone."

"If I get in trouble for this Tina, I swear-"

"I'll take full responsibility," I assured.

"_Fine_."

After finding a warm jacket to wear, I went downstairs to wait for Artie's arrival next to the large picture window in the living room. He definitely wasn't very pleased with me, but it was _our_ child after all that made me crave such things. I waited less then patiently for fifteen minutes before I saw the silhouette of a wheelchair in front of the house.

"Thank you for coming with me," I sincerely said, getting behind his wheelchair.

"You're _so_ lucky that I love you like I do, Tina Cohen-Chang," he said placing his hands in his lap.

"Love you too," I smiled, kissing the side of his face.

Aside from that, Artie stayed mostly quiet the whole walk to Seven-Eleven, so quiet that a few times I was convinced he fell back asleep out of exhaustion. However when we reached our destination, he spoke up, and told me to wait outside while he took care of the solution to my craving. I sat on the edge of one of those concrete blocks placed at the end of parking spaces to prevent cars from going further, and looked up at the sky. It was mostly cloudy, but the moon and some stars were still visible, and it was almost mesmerizing.

"You know, I've never actually had one of these to legit drink before," Artie said reaching over my shoulder with a cup filled with blue ice before locking himself beside me.

"Me either," I laughed, poking at the mass with its plastic straw.

"Is baby happy now?" He asked, taking a sip of his own drink.

"Yes," I quietly giggled.

As the night went on, or early morning I should say, he gradually forgave me for waking him up for a slushie run. Either that, or he forgave me all at once when a small amount of slushie dripped down my shirt and into my almost non-existent cleavage.

"Don't laugh at me," I said, trying not to laugh myself.

"Slushie never looked so good," he smirked.

I humphed, and pretended to be offended as I zipped up my jacket up to the very top. He continued to giggle until I took a straw full of slushie and blew it at the side of his neck.

"Hey now!" He said wiping blue ice off his neck.

"There. _Now _slushie never looked so good," I giggled.


	8. Never Alone

**A/N: I lost power while trying to finish this, so that's why I'm late. Oh! Special thanks to the anons on Tumblr that keep me on track - you know who you are. Enjoy!  
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With my passing English midterm in my hand I cheerfully exited my last class before lunch. A catchy upbeat song played in my right ear as I strolled down the hallways of McKinley, and the beat matched my blissful gait. Seeing how animated I was, Mike Chang twirled me in a circle as he headed in the opposite direction. My high wasted skirt flowed with my turn along with the lonely ear bud that hung down my front. I couldn't explain why I was so happy, but I was positive that it had something to do with those silly hormones. With a hop-step, I continued on my search for Artie so we could walk down to the cafeteria together.

I found him rolling in my direction with a pile of books in his lap, however something was different. His eyes traveled around nervously, and he kept his lips pressed together as if he was anticipating an ambush.

"Ready for lunch?" I asked taking out my ear bud and stuffing my mp3 player into my messenger bag's front pocket.

"Hi Tina…um-yeah, sure," he said placing his hands in his lap.

I looked down at him with a cocked eyebrow for a moment before suspiciously walking to the back of his chair. Artie was hiding something from me and, considering it made him that uneasy, I didn't like it one bit.

"T-theoretically," he finally started – breaking his silence. "Theoretically…what would happen if the picture you gave me two months ago, the one with your full name and information…got out of my hands?"

"Artie…"

"No, no – l-let me finish," He said with complimenting hand motions. "Still on the theoretical stand point…what would happen if that same picture somehow got into the hands of Jacob Ben Israel?"

"_What_?"

I stopped short, making Artie's two back wheels skid against the white tiles. His whole body tensed up as I made my way to the front of his chair, gripping my hands around the arm rests.

"I'm sorry – I'm so sorry…I know, I'm an idiot. I'm sorry!" He apologized, half shielding his face from the rein of Tina.

"Artie, how could you let this _happen_?" I asked throwing my hands from his wheelchair.

"It was an accident, I swear," he said. "A basketball player pushed me into a wall, and my belongings flew out of my lap. I used the picture as a bookmark so it wouldn't get wrinkled, and it fell out upon impact."

"Great, just great. Now the whole school's gonna find out," I said concealing my eyes within the palms of my hands.

"It was gonna happen sooner or later, Tee."

"Artie!" I whimpered in frustration.

"Oh no, don't cry. Please don't cry. I'm sorry," he said, rolling closer until his toes tapped the surface of my shins.

"What are we gonna do?" I sniffed, wiping my eyes.

"Let's just go to lunch," he said taking one of my hands and patting his lap. "Maybe things won't be that bad."

The number of disgusted faces started out at almost zero, but as things slowly traveled though the grapevine, they became more frequent. Just the way other girls scowled at me with judgment as if I asked for my fate - it made me want to disappear; it made me wish I wasn't pregnant. By the end of the day I just wanted to go home, but Artie convinced me to say for Glee rehearsal. His main argument was that it would make me feel better, and although he meant well, I knew he didn't want to be by himself with all nine of our talkative companions. I didn't blame him.

Our close-knit group was in their usual places and next to their favorite people with the exception of a few members and Mr. Schuster. As I pushed Artie across the room, nearly every set of eyes followed us. If anything, their faces were perplexed or sympathetic, which was far from critical. Artie parked adjacent to the end of the row, and right before I was about to take a seat, Rachel looked back at Finn before uncrossing her legs and pushing up from her chair. I bit my lip as she stood before me with her hands held in front of her blue, red, and green plaid skirt. She part her lips and tensed her eyebrows as if she was going to say something, but instead she sprung forward and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. I returned her hug and the emotion I had been holding back finally ran down my cheeks. Soon Mercedes got up to join in which caused the rest of the group to gradually bond together.

"Hey guys, sorry I'm late," Mr. Schuster cheerfully said coming though the door. "What's going on?"

"Tina's pregnant," Mercedes answered, slightly stepping away from the group after looking at me for permission to say.

Artie walked me home what evening, or more like he let me push him down the sidewalk so I wouldn't be alone. Glee club didn't necessarily make me feel better, but it reminded me that I people supporting me…even if it was only a small fraction of the student body. We made it back before dusk, and I invited him inside for his troubles. As he circled around the coffee table in our living room, I grabbed two ditto bottles of Vitamin Water and closed the refrigerator with my hip. He situated himself on the far end of our three-cushion sofa, his wheelchair and loafers to the side. After placing the two bottles on the table, I plopped down on the couch in a horizontal position with my head in Artie's lap and my feet off the end. He smiled, looked down at me, and smoothed down the top of my head. I closed my eyes, piled my hands above my ribcage, and tried to relax as my mom played classical music and vacuumed in the next room. That was, until I felt a flutter in the pit of my stomach. My eyes shot open and I tilted my chin down to take a look-see.

"You alright?" Artie asked, tilting his head.

"I-I think the baby just moved," I said, molding my hands around my stomach.

"Really?" He smiled.

"Yeah…here," I said pulling his arm off the back of the couch. "Maybe it'll do it again."

"Did you know that babies are rocked to sleep while you are moving around and may wake up when you relax and put your feet up?"

"Good _lord_," I sighed with the roll of my eyes. "You've been reading baby books, haven't you?"

"What? No," he quickly defended.

"Uh-huh."

"Fine, okay. My mom took them out and I had some free time. Happy?" He asked, shooting his hands up in surrender.

"No need to be ashamed, Art," I said returning his hand back to my stomach. "I think it's cute. You're gonna be a great father, you know."

"Really?" he asked, adjusting his glasses.

"Mhmm," I yawned. After closing my eyes once again, I drifted off to sleep once mom stopped vacuuming without a single complaint from Artie and the use of his lap.


	9. Jar of Hearts

As the size of my abdomen grew, so did the number of insults and rumors that were created by my peers. It was just how Quinn described it – the feeling of worthlessness that only increased day by day. Not only was I a glee club loser who used to fake a stutter, but also on top of that, I was pregnant. Everyday became a constant reminder of that.

Mom suggested that I check in with Miss. Pillsbury every once in a while when I felt overwhelmed at school. Normally I'd be too embarrassed to do such a thing, but after the rumor mill started overflowing, I simply didn't know whom else to turn to. Because of Artie's paralysis, the popular belief was that another guy was the father, and that I was playing him like Quinn did to Finn. Artie knew better then to believe the rumor, but I knew it still bothered him – more so over the fact that people immediately cast him out as a candidate because of the wheelchair.

"I'm really glad you came to see me Tina," Miss. Pillsbury said sitting me down in a chair ahead of her desk. I sucked in my lips and nervously glanced around her spotless office, piling my hands atop my bulging belly.

"No need to be shy," she cheerfully said with the shake of her crimson tresses as she brought her hands atop the surface of her desktop calendar. "Nothing leaves this room."

I hesitated at first, but once I got the hang of spilling out my inner thoughts – it was almost hard to stop. I told her about my everyday struggles from feeling self-conscious about my baby weight to not being able to paint my own toenails. How Artie tried to make everything better by making a joke out of it and how sick it made me to know that my peers thought I was shallow enough to cheat on him. As I mindlessly rambled on, Miss Pillsbury kept her chin perched atop the backs of her fingers and nodded periodically. Things were going well, but that was before I mentioned the act of childbirth.

"O-oh my," she said with her doe eyes nearly popping out of their sockets.

"Excuse me?" I asked tilting my head.

"Just the…blood and-and other people…d-down there," she said in a petrified tone of voice as she blankly stared down at me.

Miss. Pillsbury snapped out of her trace once she noticed the discontented look on my face. With the clearing of her throat, she turned one hundred eighty degrees in her swivel chair to grab one of the many pamphlets behind her. She pushed a pink and purple once to the edge of her desk that had "You're pregnant! Oops/congratulations" in bold yellow type. I raised an eyebrow as I held out the booklet in front of me.

"Maybe this will help," she said with a nod.

"Thanks," I unsurely said, grabbing my messenger bag off the ground.

During my afternoon study hall, I pulled the pamphlet out of my pocket, and started reading from the inside front cover. I didn't bother concealing it with a textbook; I was far enough away from the rest of my class to simply lay it out on the table before me without embarrassment. It was nothing I hadn't heard from Quinn during our mother-to-mother chats, however it put an idea about what to do after the baby was born – adoption.

I had always been, in away, excited about having the baby, but it made sense – Artie and I were both young. He had a promising future a head of him, and I had looked at a few colleges during the beginning of the school year before I got pregnant. A baby deserves a loving home with two parents, a back yard to play in, and a dog to grow up with – not a dorm room or poorly maintained studio apartment. I didn't want to burden my parents with raising it either.

However, before I could reflect any longer, the final bell of the day rang. My locker was just down the hall, so I made that my first stop before returning a library book and meeting Artie in the band room. I had my six-month sonogram planned that afternoon. Mom was to pick Artie and I up after his jazz band rehearsal. After I gave him the two-month ultrasound picture, he became fascinated with the idea, so I thought it'd only be fair to invite him along considering he _was_ the father.

Taped to the front of my locker was a pastel pink envelope with my name written in red sparkly ink. Before opening my locker, I pealed the lightly packed envelope off the red painted metal surface, and went on to break the seal. With all of the cheesy looking storks and baby bottles, I didn't have to read far to figure out what it was for, an invitation to a baby shower - _my_ baby shower.

"Oh Tina, I see you've found my invitation!" Rachel said, coming up to me with several other pink envelopes in her hands.

"Yeah…about that, Rachel-" I started.

"No need to thank me," she proudly smiled. "By the way, do you know the gender? Color coordination is _everything_."

"No, but Rachel-"

"Oh! I'll have to tell daddy to get mutual colored decorations at the store. That could have been embarrassing, thank you Tina," she said writing something down on her hand before toddling away.

"No…problem? Great." I said, slamming my locker shut.

During Artie's jazz band rehearsal, I did a combination of reading and texting Mercedes about Rachel's party. She found the whole ordeal hilarious, but to be honest, the idea of Rachel Berry hosting a party for me was a terrifying idea.

Sitting in my obstetrician's waiting room with Artie and my mom only brought back the idea of adoption…especially with a happy looking married couple with an eleven week old looking baby staring back at me, and even more so when I saw how 'baby like' the lima bean from four months ago looked.

"Tina, look!" Artie said with a big grin on his face as he squeezed my hand. He was so excited to be a father, and although it was absolutely adorable, it made me feel like a bad person – thinking about adoption earlier and all.

"Yeah, I see," I said in a grimmer tone than intended. He exchanged glances with my mom.

"You don't seem very excited," Artie said with an ever so slight pout.

"No, I am…just a little tired," I assured, running my thumb against his hand.

"Everything looks good…do you want to know the gender?" The midwife asked, it obviously being something she'd said multiple times that day.

"Lets wait," I said patting his hand, "No need to encourage Rachel."

"Okay," He chuckled. "That's a surprise I could live with."

Mom invited Artie to stay for dinner, not that I wouldn't have myself - she just beat me to it. My mind was other places. Although I wasn't really hungry, the baby wanted food, so I found myself eating until I didn't have a single pint of appetite left.

"Go for a walk with me?" I asked nudging one of Artie's wheels from under the table.

"Tina, it's getting late," mom butted in, taking my dinner plate from over my shoulder.

"We'll just go around the block…I just need to settle all that food down," I said getting up from the table and making my way to the back of Artie's chair.

"I don't think so, preggo. No more wheelchair pushing for you," Artie said, backing himself up.

"…Don't call me preggo," I said following him out the door. I could hear mom sigh and laugh at us from the kitchen as she cleaned up dinner.

It really wasn't all that late - mom worried about me less when she didn't know I was pregnant. The sun was setting, but other then that, it was light enough to still be considered day. I walked beside Artie with my hands held out in front of me. Nothing had been said since we left the house.

"C-can I talk to you about someone?" I asked after we turned a corner.

"Sure," he answered, bobbing his head once.

"I went to Miss. Pillsbury today. She gave me one of her ridiculously titled pamphlets about teen pregnancy and…it got me thinking," I confessed.

"A-about what?" He inquired with concern, looking up at me.

"Adoption," I said in a low voice, looking down at me feet.

"What?" He asked, coming to a halt.

"I don't think I'm ready to be a mother. Artie, I just turned eighteen last week."

"Those pamphlets preach bull, Tee. Trust me."

"Artie, it's something to consider," I said.

"So you're okay with giving our baby up for another couple to love," he asked, looking up at me over the rims of his glasses.

"D-don't say it like that," I whimpered.

"Well that's the reality." He said.

"I don't wanna fight," I said, shaking my head.

"It's _my_ baby too, Tina. You're just gonna give up on it that easily?" He quarreled.

"Artie I don't _know_ what I'm gonna do."


	10. Just Breathe

**A/N: Two cups of coffee and fifteen hours later - chapter ten is finished! I really have nothing else to say besides the idea of a baby Artie made me die from the cuteness factor. Anyways, enjoy, and thank you for reading!  
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**The subject of adoption became somewhat of a taboo subject between Artie and me. I had my argument, he had his, and somehow he'd always make me feel like the bad person for thinking about giving up our baby. He wasn't making it easy, and although I was still indecisive, I only considered it for the right reasons. That was the problem; he didn't understand those reasons. Having our child in the arms another was something he couldn't handle - like he had some kind of extreme and premature love for our unborn son or daughter. If we were older and more settled, I'd be all for raising it along side Artie and becoming a family, but I wanted the best for it – and I wasn't positive if we could be that. The final verdict was mine, but I wished I had the security of knowing that he'd support me no matter what I decided.

Rachel's baby shower was scheduled for 1:30pm sharp that afternoon. If I had the option of not attending, I'd take it. Nothing's scarier than a determined Rachel Berry with access to party supplies. Just standing outside her house with my mom, I knew things were going to be over top…especially for a baby that I was unsure about keeping. Although Rachel didn't know that, I was confident enough to say it wouldn't have made a difference - her front lawn looked like the Berry family raised and bred lawn storks for a living.

"Look, Tina's here!" Rachel beamed as I entered the party scene, a tall white fenced in backyard with a worn down set of swings in the far left corner, before trotting over in my direction.

"Hi Rachel," I dryly said, placing one hand over my belly and the other in the air for a meek wave.

"Come!" She said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me forward. I looked back at mom for assistance, but she was already off to ask one of Rachel's dads where to put her casserole.

The probably once normal looking backyard looked like a scene from a movie with all of the pastel yellow decorations and tableware. I never really understood why such a soft yellow was considered neutral grounds when it came to gender, it always seemed girlier to me, but hey – I didn't make the rules.

Rachel dragged me to a large round table where the majority of the attendees, our friends, were gathered. With the exception of Kurt, the guest list had all females, like traditional baby showers. I found myself taking a seat between Mercedes and Artie's mother, whom was sweetly included by my own, as Rachel fled from the scene.

"Look what I found last night," Mrs. Abrams said reaching into the pocketbook that sat in her lap, and taking out a glossy 3x5 piece of paper. It was a photograph of a sleepy looking baby, swaddled in blue, with a matching cap around its tiny skull.

"That isn't…"

"June 14th, 1994. Arthur – ten hours old," she read off the back before handing the old Kodak photograph to me.

"Oh my goodness," I awed with a wide smile.

As the picture of baby Artie traveled around the table, I realized how embarrassed he'd be if he knew what was going on. Even Santana admitted that he "wasn't the _worst _looking baby", and that was good enough for me.

"Where's the wheelchair?" Brittany asked, looking up at me from across the table. Artie's mother blinked a few times out of disbelief. She wasn't as used to Brittany as the rest of us were, I guess.

"Time to get this shower started, everyone gather round," Rachel announced as she approached the table with a perfectly wrapped gift box with a silver bow.

"Oh guys…I-"

"Nonsense," Rachel said, reaching over my shoulder to place the package in front of me. "This is what baby showers are about."

_Great_.

"Open it!" she encouraged.

I slowly picked at Rachel's flawless wrapping job until just a bleach white box was left. Inside was a baby mobile with gold stars on the ends of six strings, all at different lengths, and when wound up – it played "twinkle twinkle little star". It was _such_ a Rachel gift…even more so when I found the "Love, Auntie Rachel" stitched in white on the second furthest down star.

"Rachel, it's beautiful…"

"No need to thank me," she proudly said, crossing her legs under the table.

Each person's gift somehow reflected who she (or he, in Kurt's case) was – like a mix tape of lullabies from Quinn or the family of rubber ducks from Brittany. By the end, I felt like crying. Not only because I have amazing people behind me, but because they unknowingly spilt their hearts out for a baby that's future was unknown.

"Thank you…everyone, really. It means so much," I said.

"Hold up, we're not done _yet_," Mrs. Abrams said with a smile.

I cocked both eyebrows as she dug though her purse once again. This time she pulled out a sheet of copy paper that was folded neatly in half, and nudged it in my direction. I hesitated at first, but then unfolded the paper, and scanned the page.

"It's…a crib," I observed out loud, my voice trailing off at the end.

"Mhmm," she smiled. "It's at the house, and I wanted it to be a surprise for Art, so I couldn't ask for his help wrapping it. Plus it was to heavy, so I just brought a picture…it speaks for itself."

After another good look at the picture, I realized what she was talking about. There was a gate that sung open like a door on one of the lengths – it was a wheelchair friendly crib. I hadn't even _thought_ about things like accessibility. With my imagination in gear, I really did start to cry. My decision was made.


	11. Dream On

With my ankles crossed, I sat atop the perfectly made bed that was pushed into the far left corner of Artie's well spaced out bedroom. It was the day I thought would _never_ come throughout my long, painful, and slushie filled years of high school – graduation. Artie was in his shower across the hall, and it was my self-employed job to make McKinley High School's valedictorian of 2012 look his absolute best. We had two hours, and although I was already dressed in a red satin maternity cocktail dress, I'd probably freshen up before departure.

After half an hour of playing with the photo booth function on his iMac, I heard the door behind me open. I turned one hundred eighty degrees in my makeshift office chair, which was really a storage cube, and molded my hands around my swollen knees. A shirtless Artie rolled into the room with just a towel wrapped around his neck and a set of Star Wars boxers around his hips. His hair was absolutely everywhere, as if he just shook it out like a dog, and pearls of water ran down the side of his neck.

"Shall we?" I asked, using the desk for support as I stood up to make my way across his room.

"One condition," he said following me with the turn of his head as I maneuvered behind his chair.

"What?" I inquired, U-turning him to the full-length mirror next to his closet.

"I'm only changing my pants for you _once_ – choose wisely."

"Deal," I chuckled, placing my hands on the back of his freckled shoulders and kissing his cheek.

Believe it or not, within his well-known collection of grandpa sweaters and mom jeans were normal clothes for an eighteen-year-old male to wear. Granted Mercedes and I put most of those things there, but it was a start. I chose a basic straight leg black pant and let him change in the background, because he was always very self-conscience about those kind of things, as I browsed for a shirt and tie combination.

"I think there's a pair of red suspenders in there…somewhere," he said coming up next to me.

I looked down at him. It should be illegal for someone with that much 'super human upper body strength' to wear a shirt. He caught me staring and both sets of our cheeks turned red. Sue me - I was hormonal.

"S-so, you wanna match?" I asked changing the topic.

"How about a white collared shirt, black bow-tie, and red suspenders?" he asked, flipping though the bottom rack of shirts at knee height.

"I'm impressed," I smirked, placing my hands on my hips.

Because I've never been able to do anything more fancy, or better yet, get it to _stay_, all it took was a dime-sized amount of gel and a comb through to finish up Mr. Valedictorian 2012. Compared to the other times I've been ordered to dress Artie…or the times I've _made _him change, that was definitely the least painful. However, getting the oversized graduation gown to corporate with his wheelchair was another story. Just getting him _into_ the darn thing was a two-person job itself.

Once the ceremony was in progress, Finn offered to push Artie across the football field. We both appreciated the gesture on account that I was six months pregnant. As I took a seat with the rest of our class in alphabetical order, I couldn't help but be proud of him as he sat on stage. Not that I was a perfect student in the first place, but after I got pregnant, my grades dropped a bit from all the stress.

Only when Artie's full name was called, did I really pay attention to what was going on…except when my own name was called to accept my diploma. I clapped like a mad woman as he made his way to the podium, and although the person next to me didn't seem to appreciate it, he sure did. However I stopped mid clap and bit my lip once I saw how the podium blocked him from the nose down. Luckily, Mr. Schuster noticed as well and fixed him up with a hand-held microphone instead on the other side of the makeshift stage. Before he began to read off the papers in his lap, I caught his gaze with a reassuring smile.

"I'm not going to make up a story about how 'wonderful' my high school career was over the past four years – that's be a lie. However, that's not what this speech is about. Ladies and gentlemen, we've made it though high school…but really, it's only the beginning. Within the next year or so, many of you will be heading off to university to further your education, take a risk, fall in love…whatever.

I'd like you all to imagine yourselves four years ago. Maybe you were shy, in the closet about who you really were, or throwing slushies at students on the sub-basement of the popularity scale…maybe you still are, but we've all changed whether you're willing to admit it or not. Sophomore year, Noah Puckerman put me in a porter-potty with the intention of flipping it. He's still kinda a punk, and it's best when he doesn't contribute, but hey – you get what I mean.

I guess I'd like to end this with thanking all of our teachers, especially William Schuster. Not only is the man wicked fluent in Spanish, but he taught me how to dream – and that my disability should never get in the way of making those dreams come true.

So with that, class of 2012, congratulations…we did it – dream on."

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**A/N: Bare with me - I've never had to write a Valedictorian Speech**, **and I probably never will. It was really hard not to skip this chapter, but I wanted/needed an indication of graduation. OH and baby wise...it's still in the air. Yeah, sorry about that.  
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	12. When You're Gone

**A/N: I start school in less then a week so, not that I'm a speedy poster to begin with, but updates might go back to once a week. Words can not describe how much research it took for me to even _begin_ writing this. That is all. Enjoy!**

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**Two weeks after graduation, I found that nothing really changed – or at least the changes weren't drastic enough to notice. It really just felt like summer vacation, but instead of everyone returning to McKinley in the fall, they'd be dispersed around the county to their university of choice. I was due in two months, so instead of buying college apparel, I was working on my collection of stretchy pants and loose fitting shirts. I was the definition of sexy; Artie couldn't keep his hands off me –my belly at least.

I woke up late enough to catch my mother showered, dressed, and out the door with a grocery list a mile long. Not knowing what else to do with myself, I grabbed the half spooned out pint of Mint Chocolate Chip, and headed for the couch. After five minutes of channel surfing, I found a classic Disney movie that was only ten minutes in progress. Except for the fact that my lower back was absolutely _killing _me, it looked like the beginnings of a good day.

When the second set of commercials came on, I decided to throw away the soggy carton and change the cotton swoop neck T-shirt that I dripped ice cream on. Putting my hand on the back of the couch for support, I began to stand up. However, some kind of hard pressure in my pelvis made my sit right back down out of shock. I placed my hand on my stomach as the pressure decreased to a dull roar. It felt like a rock, or more like a _baby_, pushing down on my pelvis bone – which only added to the throbbing pain in my back.

"Okay I get it," I chuckled with a second attempt at standing up. "You're not a fan of mint chocolate"

Something stopped me half way to the kitchen – a warm and damp sensation in my lower region. I looked down, and liquid was soaking through my army green pants like wildfire. It didn't take me long to figure out what was happening, but it sure took a second to realize what it meant. The experience that I was supposed to have eight more weeks to prepare for was happening right there and then – I was going into labor.

I started to panic, like _really_ start to panic. Not only was my abdomen contracting in ways I never thought possible, but I was home alone without a single clue. Once I pulled myself together enough to function, I frantically called mom's cell phone from the kitchen. She didn't believe me, and told me just to take a bath until the false contractions stopped. However when I told her my water broke and was currently dripping down my inner thigh, I literally heard her drop everything.

Although the drive from our house to the closest grocery store was less than five minutes away, but because of my anxiety and all-around discomfort, it felt like thirty. When mom pulled into the driveway and obnoxiously honked the horn, I nearly flew out of the house and into the back seat of her compact car.

"How far apart are your contractions?" She asked, turning swiftly into the street.

"W-what?"

"Tina, when was your last contraction?"

"I don't know, three minutes ago – maybe?" I shrugged.

"Start timing, and here, call the Abrams," she said, tossing me her blackberry.

Calling Artie had been the last thing on my mind in the midst of the surprise baby attack. The combination of my shaky hands and tiny buttons made dialing difficult, but I eventually managed to type out his cell phone number. It rang once, twice, a third, and a fourth before cutting to voice mail. Not even taking the phone away from my ear, I pressed re-dial, and got his voice mail once again.

"Artie, pick up the phone…m-my water broke, I-I'm on my way to the hospital. I…Art, _please_ call me back."

"Try his parents," mom said.

"I don't know their numbers…and no one's home at this hour. Artie works until 4:00pm," I said.

Every few minutes, I tried to reach him, but the same thing happened every time. I tried to limit my voice messages, but each time I left one, I could feel myself getting louder, crazier, and more desperate to hear his voice every time. My contractions quickly escalated to once every six minutes, and my pain stricken cries only caused my mom to break at least seven road rules, which was _very_ out of character.

By the time we reached _Lima Memorial Hospital_, I had called Artie's cell phone forty-three times in the thirty minutes it took to get there. With my contractions lasting as long as a minute and coming every three or four, it took a lot of motivation from my mother to get me from the car and though the hospitals automatic doors. I had given up on calling Artie and mom took her phone back.

After a quick look at 'how things are going down there' by an on call doctor, I was rushed into a delivery room down the hall in a hospital gown. It was too late for an epidural, and I already regretted not having one.

I heard my full name thrown all around the intimidating delivery room between doctors and nurses along with long medical sounding vocabulary. My mom sat to my right, dressed in blue plastic like the other 95% of the room, and kept one hand on my shoulder and the other molded around the back of my skull.

"Tina, are you ready to push for me?" A tan faced man with green eyes asked, snapping on a pair of latex gloves.

"No…no,no,no. I need him here, I-I need Artie," I squirmed, quickly glancing at my mom.

"The father," she added.

"I'm afraid we can't wait any longer without risking the health of your baby," a redheaded female said from over the man's shoulder.

"Come on Tina, we can do this together – you and me," mom encouraged, squeezing my shoulder.

"_He needs to be here._"

My inner walls contracted once more with the hardest pressure yet, which caused me to yelp and grip the bed sheets beneath me. Everything below my ribcage told me push, while my heart told me to refrain.

"Tina, I need you to corporate more with me here," the green eyed man said.

"Okay," I sniffed after a pause – wiping a tear from the outer corner of my left eye.

It was, without a doubt, one of the most painful occurrences in my life - every shift, every strain I felt as the baby inched past my pelvic bone and into the world. My mom did her best in coaching me and I was lucky to have her, but even with her maternal experience, she was no Artie. Within the twenty-five minutes it took to bring baby Cohen-Chang-Abrams in the world, I waited for Artie to come though the door and take my mothers place…but it never happened.

It was a girl. A tiny, wailing, baby girl no longer than one of Artie's geeky looking orthopedic shoes. It was almost a relief to hear her cry, especially with being two months early, but because of that – she was taken away by a team of nurses to a placed called the "NICU" before I could even _meet_ her.

"You did great, sweetheart," mom smiled, kissing the side of my face.

"D-did he call?" I faintly asked, completely exhausted, but not enough to forget.

Mom reached under her plastic robe and unlocked her blackberry. Looking at the screen, she bit her lip before grimly shaking her head. There was my answer.


	13. My Never

**A/N: This was originally going to a lot longer, but I decided to split it in half. I think the story will flow better that way. I had this one planned out for a while, but yet it was probably one of the harder ones to right because I had such a clear cut image of what I wanted it to be like. Anyways, thank you for reading, and enjoy. **

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**Once I was cleaned up and redressed in a fresh pastel pink hospital gown, I was taken to a room on the third floor that was an L-shaped corridor away from the nurseries. It was a plain colored, rectangular room with an electrically powered cot as it's main attraction. On the opposite wall was a worn down armchair and a coffee table with a bouquet of fake daisies on its surface that somewhat brightened up the bare room.

Although she insisted on keeping me company, I excused my mom to the cafeteria downstairs because she looked famished. Really I just wanted to be alone. The second I heard the heavy wooden door click shut, I wrapped an arm around the fluffy white pillow underneath my head, and bunched it up against my chest. I felt like crying. Not even two hours ago had I birthed a baby, _Artie's_ baby, and he wasn't even there with me. Not in the delivery room, not now.

What if at the last minute, he decided he wanted nothing to do with our baby or me anymore…what if he was hurt? My mind raced with possibilities, ruling out the most probable and logical situations almost immediately in my pathetic state. With a sigh, I clutched my pillow tighter and buried half of my face into the bleach white cotton.

When I heard the door handle frantically twist, and the door itself swing harshly against the mounted doorstop on the opposite wall, I looked over my shoulder. Only when I saw who my visitor was did I fully rotate my aching body in their direction with a defeated look on my face.

"Artie?" I breathed.

"Tina. Tina, I-I'm so sorry."

Still panting, he rolled forward towards the bed until his knees touched my bedside. He grazed my forearm with his calloused fingertips, but I continued to keep my arms tightly curled up against my chest as I stared up at him.

"Please say something."

"I _needed_ you."

Just by the way his face flinched did I realize how cold and bitter my whimper was. With a poignant sigh, he tossed his glasses on the bed and slid his hands down the front of his face with a shake of his head. Artie plopped his hands in his lap and continued to hang his head. The fluorescent lights from above reflected off the twin salt-water trails on his shadowy face. I was frustrated with his inconvenient absence, sure, but I never meant to make him feel bad enough to be able to cry in front of me.

"Artie?" I softly asked, breaking my barrier, and reaching out my left arm to cup his knee in my hand.

"I feel like a jerk," he mumbled, placing a hand atop mine. "I should know better than to keep my phone on vibrate."

"T-that's not your fault," I said, shaking my head against the pillow.

"If you say so," he sighed, repositioning his glasses on his nose.

Maybe it was due to my exhaustion, or the fact Artie blamed the lack of sensation in his legs for not making it on time, but I simply couldn't stay angry with him.

"I-it's a girl," I said after a pause with a small smile.

"Oh Tina…I already feel like a bad father," he said drooping his shoulders and tilting his head to the side. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Come see her with me? I didn't even get to hold her," I said.

"Y-yeah, yeah I'll come," he said, looking over the rims of his glasses.

Sitting up had never been so painful. My abdomen and everything below it felt bruised and sure. I probably wasn't even aloud out of bed yet, but I didn't give a damn at that point. Artie rolled in front of me and placed his hands on my knees.

"Here," he said patting his black denim covered lap.

"Artie no, I've got this," I said curling my hands around the edge of my bed.

"I insist. You're wearing a hospital bracelet, which means you have to travel via wheelchair, and since I can't push you in a separate one like you've spoiled me with over the years – you get a ride."

"Fine," I said, rolling my eyes and taking his outstretched hand.

Telling mom where I was going probably would have been a wise idea, and I would have if we weren't out of the room by the time I thought about it. From the vague memory of the directions I was given to the NICU, I directed Artie corridor by corridor until we came up to a large picture window with the words _Neonatal Intensive Care Unit_ to its left.

"What _is_ this place?" Artie asked pulling up to the window that came up to his chin.

"Mom told me it's a place for sick or weak babies," I said, putting my hand on his shoulder.

"O-our baby's s-sick?"

"I don't know," I honestly answered.

I placed one hand on the windows edge and scanned the room as Artie kept an arm wrapped around my waist and his chin on my shoulder. The room was large and filled with plastic chambers and large, expensive looking machines attached to them. There had to be at least two adults for every tiny baby in the room.

"Do you see her?" Artie asked.

"Hang on," I said, bracing myself on the armrests of his wheelchair.

Once my hospital-socked covered feet touched the ground, I slowly stood up with the support of Artie's hand on my lower back. I took a small step towards the window until the tip of my nose grazed the glass. With more of an aerial view than before, I surveyed the room once more. I squinted to read the names printed the incubators.

"Over there – the far left," I said, drawing a trail with my eyes.

"That's her?" he asked.

"I-I think so," I said.

Artie stretched out his arm and curled it around my waist before pulling me closer. I gently sat on his armrest and placed my hand around the back of his neck. He looked up at me with his sweet signature closemouthed smile before returning to look though the glass.

"I think I wanna keep her."

"Really?" Artie asked.

"But on one condition," I said

"What?" He inquired.

"Artie, we're still young, I can't ask you to love _me_ forever…but can you promise me that no matter what, you'll love her?" I asked looking him dead in the eye.

"Can I do both?"

At that moment, the door to the right of us opened and a woman in purple patterned scrubs with her hair in a ponytail stepped out into the hallway with a massive clipboard perched at her waist.

"Cohen-Chang?" she asked.

"Yeah," I answered, exchanging a glance with Artie.

"You can come in if you'd like."

I got behind Artie out of habit and pushed him though the doorway after the woman in purple. Technically I was the patient, but Artie didn't seem to mind because the passageways were narrow with wires hanging left and right. It turned out that I was right at which baby was ours because that's where the woman stopped and looked down

She looked like just as I remembered in the delivery room – an tiny body with an out of proportioned head, but she was cleaned up and attached to the different machines around her incubator. On the side, written on a baby themed note card, was _Baby Cohen-Chang 2lb. 10oz_.

Artie was speechless, I was in awe – she was _ours_.


	14. Speechless

**A/N: The way I originally ended this chapter has been absolutely bothering me all week, so I decided to fix that. All in all, it's not that different. Plus I was informed by a few people on Tumblr that they didn't get an E-mail, so in hopes that's fixed up I decided to just resubmit with the revised version. If you've read it already from just stalking *cough* Jenny *cough* then just skip to the end. ;)  


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The long, hard plastic incubator came up to about Artie's eye level, while I had more of an aerial view of our not even two-hour-old baby girl. Although it didn't feel like it on her way out, she was a tiny little thing, appearing about the length of a two-liter bottle up close. Atop her soft skull was a thin layer of dark hair similar to the shade I called my own. She looked so pure apart from the multicolored wires flowing from her fragile looking body. In so many ways, it was absolutely surreal seeing her out in the open.

Artie had lined himself parallel to the incubator, and I remained behind the chair with my hands molded around each of his shoulders, not knowing how else to apply myself. He kept his hand on the closest corner, but didn't dare to make physical contact with the world inside.

"She's been pretty stable the last hour, you could probably hold her if you want."

"Really?" I grinned, squeezing Artie's shoulders.

"Briefly, yes."

Being careful not to startle the sleeping baby underneath, she opened the top latch with care before guiding the lid up with her fingertips. Select wires, particularly the ones attached to her chest, were removed leaving only an IV line and oxygen tube attached. After being bundled up in a soft pink blanket, she was elevated out of the clear plastic box that kept her safe from the elements.

After an encouraging smile from Artie, I timidly left the back of his chair to meet the neonatal nurse holding our daughter. She was placed in my arms, and once securely cradled, it was just the two of us. She was lighter than I ever imagined a baby being, it was almost like I was holding a doll - an old china doll that could easily fall to pieces with one false move.

"Hi," I sweetly whispered.

From beyond her head, I noticed Artie push himself twice in our direction. He stopped at an angle before folding his hands in his lap and looking up at me. Only when I took a second glance at him did I was being a baby hog, and that he couldn't see her well.

"Here," I said turning out in his direction. "You should hold her."

He shook his head – "No…I-I can't. It's fine, you can keep holding her."

"Oh come on, it's easy," I said, stepping forward on my left foot. Continuing to support the back of her skull with the palm of my hand, I held her in front of Artie's chest.

"W-what if I drop her?" he asked with an unsure look upon his face as he layered his bare arms around her.

"You won't," I said, gently removing my hand so that her head could rest in the curve of his elbow.

Molding one hand around his knee and other upon his shoulder, I got down on both knees beside his left wheel. As Artie held our daughter, I watched his mouth try to form words, but he was completely speechless.

"She needs a name, you know," I said.

He looked at me before returning his gaze back down to the tiny baby in his arms.

"Grace…she's definitely a Grace," he smirked.

"Grace," I repeated. "Grace Annette Cohen-Chang Abrams."

Artie and I exchanged glances in agreement with matching smiles before I slipped my arm around his neck and leaned the top of my head against his ear. Taking my other hand from his knee, I stretched my arm across Artie's lap until my three longest fingertips came in contact with her tiny peach-like cheek. It was a moment I wished would have lasted forever, Artie holding our little girl for the first time – it just felt like everything was fair and right once again.

We weren't allowed to bond with her for much longer – the nurse said excessive amounts of physical touch could stress her out, so Artie and I retreated back to my room down the hall. It was empty, my mom was nowhere to be found, but somehow I didn't mind. As I settled, he wheeled himself around the bed to the side furthest from the door. Bending at his lowest area of function, he pressed both elbows into the surface of the mattress, and cupped the side of his face with both hands before giving up half of that support to stroke my arm.

I wanted to say something to him; something among the lines of how much I loved him at that very moment or how proud I was, but before I got the chance to form the words, the door opened. In came the doctor from earlier that day with a stethoscope around his neck and a clipboard under his arm. Artie timidly sat up and looked at the man in a white coat.

"Hello Miss. Cohen-Chang…how are you feeling this afternoon?"

"Fine I guess…achy, but fine," I answered.

"Well that's good, and we can get you some morphine if your pain continues, but what I'm here for is to talk about your baby," he said pulling up a chair.

"Is everything okay?" Artie asked.

"For now she's doing great, yes…but with a baby younger than thirty-seven weeks gestation, there's a risk for complications that you should be aware of."

"L-like what?" I asked.

"Well what we're really concerned about is her lungs. At thirty-two weeks, baby's lungs aren't fully formed, so it's difficult for them to breathe on their own. This can lead to something as simple as asthma when she's older or something more serious like Cerebral Palsy because of the lack of oxygen to her brain."

"W-what?" Artie coldly asked.

"Its condition that can involve the brain and nervous system-"

"_I know that_," he snapped.

"Artie!" I scolded.

With a defeated sigh, he sat back in his wheelchair and crossed his arms over his abdomen as if he was going to get sick. The doctor wisely dropped the subject before continuing on with a quick update of my vitals. As I got my blood pressure checked, I glanced over at him with a small smile, but he was completely shut down. When the doctor finally left, I rotated onto my left side before reaching out for him.

"Artie?"

He looked up at me before sighing and grimly raising the left corner of his mouth – "there's a kid with Cerebral Palsy in my therapy group. He uses an electric wheelchair because the left side of his body doesn't function correctly."

"So what? She'll still be our daughter…and she might not even have it," I reasoned.

"Why don't you see it, Tina? _Our little girl_, she-she's going to grow up to be a fucking _cripple_…just like me."

"_Artie stop_," I cried, retracting my hand to cover my face as I curled up into a semi-fetal position.

He stopped mid rant, and after a moment of silent relapse, he let out a small gasp before pouring his heart out into an apology. Language never phased me, but hearing it from the perfectly aligned mouth of someone usually so reserved was like getting slapped in the face.

"I really don't know where that came from Tina, again I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I've been saying that a lot today."

"I understand, I guess," I said.

"Forgive me?"

"Yeah," I smirked.

Artie sat by my bedside all day and we read outdated gossip magazine together and watched reruns of _Full House_. His family came and gone with lots of love, but he insisted on staying, even going to the extent of getting me food and extra pillows to "make up for the wreak of the day".

"Tina, what time is it?" he asked squinting up at the clock as he buffed his glasses with the edge of his argyle sweater vest.

"9:30pm, why?" I asked.

"Aw Tee, I gotta go," he frowned.

"What? Why? No, stay."

"Visiting hours ended at 7:00pm – I shouldn't even be here," he said.

"You're Grace's father," I said, taking a moment for it to sink in. "You're not a visitor, silly."

"Are you sure?" He inquired, folding his hands in his lap.

"Want reassurance?"

"Please."

"Come here," I said, scooting over and patting the clear space next to my hip.

He looked at me from over the rims of his glasses, before dryly locking his wheels. In the time it took for him to transfer for chair to bedside, I managed to slip off the loosest ID bracelet off my wrist. He let his legs lamely hang off the side of my mattress as he waited for my next move.

"Here," I said holding out the white band, "Now it'll _look_ like you belong here."

"Tina Cohen-Chang, eighteen year old female…convincing," he said.

"Oh shush," I said, poking his closest bicep. "Stay with me tonight?"

He sighed with a smile before pulling his left right leg onto the mattress – "I suppose."


	15. Ungodly Hour

**A/N: The reviews for this story surpassed 100 last night - you guys make me feel like a total rock star, thank you! A batch of double chocolate chip brownies for all of you. And for my beautiful tumblr people - a picture that inspired Artie's quilt will be up in five minutes. Enjoy!**

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When I woke up the following morning, I found myself stretched out along the width of my hospital bed. I didn't think much of it at first, I always looked like a beached whale in the morning, but that was before I remembered that the last thing about falling asleep last night was being alone. Supporting my upper body with my forearms, I drowsily looked around room. There was no Artie, no wheelchair – which was kinda a given, and his glasses were no longer neatly folded on my bedside table. Figuring he just went out to find a wheelchair accessible bathroom, I plopped my head back down on my pillow.

After half an hour of watching Saturday morning cartoons, the door handle started to jiggle. Moments later, the door itself swung open, and Artie quickly rolled inside before it had a chance to shut on him. In his lap was a canvas tote and a folded over brown paper bag.

"Good morning," he smiled. "I meant to return before you woke up, but you know my mother."

"Your mom was here?" I asked, tilting my head.

"She came by to drop off a few things, but visiting hours aren't until 2:00pm, so I had to go to her," Artie said.

"Things like what?" I asked.

"Your favorite pumpkin scones," he said, tossing the paper bag into my lap. "And this."

"What?" I inquired.

Artie parted the handles of the canvas bag before reaching inside – "My baby quilt."

With a grin he unfolded the fabric in his lap before maneuvering closer to the bed. Taking two congruent corners, he laid the faded quilt over my shins. Most of the patches were solid colors varying from orange to cream, but a few patterns of silhouetted motor vehicles, polka dots, and vertical stripes were thrown in as well.

"My Aunt Sarah made this for me," he proudly said, smoothing out a wrinkle. "I had it after I was born, every night in the hospital after my accident…and now I want our daughter to have it."

"I-I don't know what to say."

"You don't think it's too boyish, do you?" He asked.

"Not at all, it's perfect. Thank you, Artie," I smiled, straightening my right arm to capture his hand upon my quilt covered shin.

After refolding the quilt among the creases already made, Artie settled back in bed with me, and consumed his mother's ingenious scones with me as the nostalgia marathon played in the background. With him at a decent distance, I was finally able to kiss him out of gratitude – for everything. Creeping into the space between his left arm and ribcage, I nuzzled the side of my face into his chest, and reached my right arm over his diaphragm. I stayed quiet from there, and as he sweetly ran the back of his hand up and down my back, I felt like I could finally relax.

"What'cha thinking about?" He asked breaking the silence.

"Just our little family," I admitted.

"_Family_," He repeated with a smile.

"Listen, Art – I know you just got settled and all…but do you think we could visit her soon?" I asked, tracing the pattern on his sweater vest with my index finger.

"Of course, I mean, I wanna see her again. Whenever you want," he said.

"Now?" I cutely asked.

"Yes," he chuckled.

Once I got the okay that the ties in the back of my hospital gown were tight and un-revealing, even if my overseer _was_ a seventeen-year-old male, we exited my bland hospital room to the even blander hallway. Artie brought along the tiny quilt to see if it could be in the incubator with Gracie, and kept it folded in his lap as we traveled to the NICU. Although there were plenty of lights on, and multiple nurses on staff, the schedule on the main door said visitors – even parents, weren't allowed in for another hour.

"Now what?" He asked, looking up for me.

"Let's go for a walk," I answered after a moment of silence.

"_Where_?"

"I don't know, just around the hospital – I'm sick of that room already," I said.

"I don't think we're allowed to just wander around a medical institute, Tina," he said.

"Oh come on," I said, getting behind his chair. "We'll just say we got lost."

"Fine," he gave in with an eye roll as he retreated his hands into his lap.

After circling the second floor once, I decided to take our adventure to the next level – literally. Although the third floor has the same basic look, there were a few different sights and sounds that the second floor lacked. Artie kept a wary look on his face the whole time despite the multiple times I told him to just relax, but once we turned a certain corner towards the pediatric wing, the lines in his face increased and his shoulders tensed up more than before.

"Are you okay?"

"T-that's the room, _my_ room," Artie said drifting away from my hold.

I raised an eyebrow before chasing after him into a room on the right side of the hallway marked three hundred twenty-seven.

"Artie, you can't just barge in-"

"It's empty," He said, looking back at me. "Tina this is where I spent eight months of my childhood."

"Oh," I said, looking around the room.

"Sorry…I didn't mean to drag you in here. This hospital stay isn't about me," he said, turning around.

"No," I said touching his shoulder. "This means a lot to you – share it with me."

"You've heard my sob story enough," he said, shaking his head. "Plus I'd rather not relive being told I'll never be able to walk again. Come on, let's go see Gracie."

"It's okay if you just-"

"I'm good, Tina. Really," he said.

"Okay," I smiled.

I couldn't tell if leaving the room was a moment of strength or weakness for Artie, but either way, I was kind of proud of him for it. He didn't verbally dwell on it either the whole way downstairs to the NICU either – which was a pleasant surprise. Maybe he was just that excited to see Gracie again.

There was maybe another set of parents, much older than Artie and I, across the room from Grace – but they kept to themselves. Artie parked himself next to her incubator, and I sat cross-legged in his lap as I kept one hand inside with her. I ventured my hand deeper and ran my index finger down the inside of her arm until I reached the palm of her tiny hand. In the time we've known our little baby, she hadn't been the most active thing ever, so when her five fingers loosely curved around my one – I was beyond amazed.

However, a sharp beeping noise interrupted our happiness. Artie and I exchanged the same fearful glance as a nurse ran over, and it wasn't long before Gracie let go of my finger. The beeping continued, and with every second, got more frantic and high pitched. Artie and I were shooed off to the side as a team of nurses surrounded our baby, and all we could do was watch as they tried to get her heart rate back to normal. Standing on my own, I quickly reached for Artie's hand ad held it tightly. That's when I realized that there was a long road ahead of us filled with uncertainty - the NICU was it's own little world and showed mercy to no one.


	16. Papa, Can you Hear Me?

**A/N: _I've had multiple claims that the E-mails aren't working again, so I thought I'd resubmit in hopes they work the second time around for the people who didn't get the memo via Tumblr. Sorry for the inconvenience._**

**Words can not express how sorry I am for disappearing for three weeks after a cliffhanger. My life's been nuts lately, and being stressed about not updating didn't help, so I sat myself down and wrote like a mad woman the second I got home. Hopefully the next installment won't take so long. Enjoy and thank you for reading!**

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Artie and I were left in the dark as the full on-duty staff of the Lima Memorial Hospital's NICU crowded around our helpless daughter. Standing about twenty feet back with Artie to my right, I kept one hand clenched around the fabric over his shoulder, and the other over the left side of my chest. As the tempo of the beeping increased, my fist scrunched Artie's shirt tighter and tighter until the veins in the back of my hand rose beneath the skin

Suddenly, the quick and staccato beeps became a long, held out pitch. With a squeak, my knees gave out from under me, and I collapsed onto my knees. Keeping my arms folded around his neck, I attacked his chest with the side of my head. He held his breath, however the cardiac muscle beneath my ear pounded from within. I briefly opened once eye and looked out, but quickly hid my face in the wool-cotton blend that made up Artie's sweater vest because the last thing that I wanted was to watch my daughter die. I could feel the hope vanish from Artie's skin as his tight hold around my back turned into a wet and cold noodle.

_Beep._

I shot my head up with a soft gasp.

_Beep_.

To the point of almost tipping him over, chair and all, I tightened my hold around his shoulders. With a single exhale; he let out the breath that he had been holding before squinting his eyes shut – "thank you," he whispered.

Once Gracie was deemed stable, or as stable as she was going to get, a staff member asked us to leave; saying that the last thing such a sick baby needed was suffocation by emotional parents. Leaving her was the last thing I wanted to do – especially after such a traumatic event, and although they were preemie experts, I couldn't see the harm in just watching her with no physical contact involved. Artie wasn't pleased either, especially with having to retreat with the quilt meant for her.

It was weird. Not even twenty-four hours prior to bringing Grace Annette Cohen-Chang Abrams into the world, and I already could not imagine my life without her. Like with most human relationships, Artie and I for example, it's a matter of time before a connection is formed, but I didn't have the choice with Gracie. The moment of conception, we became a team she and I.

My own mother arrived around 2:00pm; an hour after visiting hours came in affect. Artie was out of his wheelchair by then and perched on the edge of my bedside, next to my left hip, with his legs dangled off the side. I kept my left hand loosely molded around the top of his closest khaki covered thigh.

"Hi honey," she greeted, placing her turquoise handbag next to a chair on the far wall before making her way over to the bed.

"Hey mom."

Pulling my body into her chest, mom sweetly kissed the side of my face before giving Artie's shoulder a supportive squeeze. She then returned to the chair, pulling her handbag into her lap once seated.

"Excited to come home?" Mom asked crossing one leg over the other.

"Home?" I repeated, raising my eyebrows.

"You were only booked for the night," she responded.

"There must be a mistake," I said, exchanging a glance with Artie. "The people in the NICU said Gracie wouldn't be ready to leave for at least another month."

"Don't worry, sweetie, you can still visit her – you and Artie both."

"You mean…we're just gonna _leave _her here?" I inquired, tightening my grip around the inside of Artie's bony thigh – not that he noticed.

"Only until she's healthy enough to come home, then she's all yours," mom smiled.

Artie, who continued to hold his tongue, looked down at my hand curled around his inner thigh. Pulling my hand from between his legs, he brought it up to his slightly prickled cheek, and kissed it in an attempt to set my nerves at ease. I sometimes wondered how in God's name he stayed so bulletproof on the outside during my times of trouble, particularly throughout the last few hours, but I wasn't complaining a bit – one of us had to.

From her handbag, mom pulled out a simple set of clothes destined for my body, and threw them into my lap before proceeding downstairs to sign release papers. Check out was in half an hour, and mom coordinated her arrival to work with that. With a fresh bra in my lap, I reached back to untie the top tie of my hospital gown, but froze once I found Artie _watching_ me.

"Excuse me?"

"What?" He squeaked.

"A _little _privacy?"

"_We have a baby, remember? That's like…surefire proof that I've in fact seen you naked before, Tee_," he mocked.

I lightly chuckled and rolled my eyes – "just don't watch so…intensely."

"Fine!" He said, throwing up his hand in surrender before sliding them under his glasses to playfully shield his eyes. "Happy?"

"Very," I answered, nudging him with my leg.

Assuming my mother wasn't coming back upstairs, I folded my hospital gown on top of the bed, and piled any of my actual belongings in Artie's lap. Holding the door open for him, I scanned the room once more before following him out and letting it shut behind me.

"Do you think we could get in a quick goodbye?" Artie asked, coming to a halt. "With all the chaos, I didn't get a chance to give her my quilt."

"Of course," I smiled, placing my hand on his shoulder.

Gracie was in an even more pathetic looking state than our first initial visit, or least, it looked that way with a tube down her throat to help her breathe. Standing before the incubator, I almost reached my hand in to touch her – let her know I was there, but had a flashback to what happened the last time, so I remained to myself.

"Hi baby," Artie said, bending at his waist to be eye level with her.

"Is that for her?"

Our heads turned simultaneously towards the sweet feminine voice coming in our direction.

"It was mine when I was little," Artie answered, giving the quilt a squeeze.

"We could put it in with her later, if you'd like," the nurse offered.

"Thank you," he said, passing the blanket over to the nurse.

Once the nurse was gone, Artie put his arm around my waist, and pulled me to his side. Putting one of my own arms around the back of his shoulders, I gently sat down on the armrest, and rested my cheek on the top of his head.

"I feel like we're about to abandon her," I sighed.

"We'll visit her – every day if you want," he said.

"I know, I know…but it just doesn't feel right."

Artie looked out from the corners of his eyes and contorted his face in thought before his eyebrows rose. Briefly retracting his arm from around my waist, he dug into the front pocket of his pants before pulling out a worn down brown leather wallet.

"Here," he said, pulling out a sheet of Kodak paper folded in half.

It was a picture from around a year ago taken by my mother in our living room. I stood bent at the waist at the back of Artie's chair with my aims loosely looped around his neck and the biggest smile on my face.

Artie straightened out the picture on his knee before reaching inside the incubator, leaning the non-glossy side against the plastic.

"Now it'll be like we're with her always."


	17. Imagine

Artie's eighteenth birthday came rather quickly after Gracie came into the world. Granted, the two dates were only a mere week apart, but even so – the time flew. Maureen Abrams, who insisted that I call her by her first name because of the new branch in their family tree, had intended the wheelchair accessible crib to be an absolute surprise from the both of us. Once the bulky shipping box left the Abram's, mom kept it in the master bedroom, upstairs, for safekeeping.

When Gracie wasn't being visited, my time was spent with mom, and sometimes Artie himself, preparing for her arrival into our home. I was moving into the guest bedroom downstairs, and the room across the hall was to be renovated into a nursery for easy access.

Once I felt up to it, Artie and I spent a whole day painting the 12x12 room a pastel yellow. With a smock across his lap, he took care of the wall space in his reach while I stood on a ladder above him painting the places he couldn't. However, things went downhill when a _war_ with paint covered brushes as the weapon of choice broke out, which was caused by me accidentally dripping paint on his shoulder. That was when I realized how surreal it was for the two of us to have a kid, while we were on the thick line that separated child from adulthood.

I didn't want to present a pain cardboard box to Artie on his birthday, so the night before, dad and I spent _hours_ putting together the complicated structure that was to be Gracie's crib. As frustrating as that was, it was nice spending time with my dad. It was almost nostalgia from my childhood when we built a bird-feeder from scratch when I was seven, which still filled the bellies of hungry birds to that day.

When the doorbell echoed through out the house on the afternoon of May 18th, I trotted around the corner from the nursery after a few last minute touches to welcome my guest.

"Artie!" I proclaimed, throwing myself at the boy in a red polka dotted bow-tie.

"Hi Tee," he chuckled after getting the wind knocked briefly out of him.

With a peck on the lips, I wished him a happy birthday before being a proper hostess and welcoming him inside.

"So rumor has it in the Abrams household that you have a surprise for me hidden over here," Artie said, rolling past me as I held the door open for him.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't," I shrugged.

"You're not pregnant again, are you?"

"Artie, that's not…_no_."

"Just making sure," he said, throwing his hands up in the air in defense.

I rolled my eyes and walked passed him, gesturing for him to follow me into the kitchen. While dad and I were at work the night before, she made chocolate cupcakes with raspberry icing last night just for the next. Artie was like the son she never had at times.

"She really didn't have to do anything…my own mother fussed over me enough this morning," He chucked, picking at the paper around the circumference of his first cupcake.

"It's your _birthday_, Art."

"So?"

"_So_ – it's the day you came into the world and stole your mothers heart forever," I said, hopping up on the counter. "Think about how happy you were when Gracie was born."

"Well, I…_okay_."

Taking a dollop of icing from the top of a cupcake with my right pointer finger, I sucked it off with a giggle, as I swung my legs from the edge of the counter.

After holding him from the initial surprise long enough to make me an anxious mess, I hopped off the counter, tossed my cupcake leftovers away, and got behind his wheelchair. As soon as he began to question my intentions, I shushed him, and continued though the house without a single give away.

"Close your eyes," I commanded, stopping next to the closed door of the nursery.

"Is this my surprise?" He asked, looking back at me before slipping his hands under the rims of his glasses.

"Maybe," I said, reaching behind me for the door handle

"I bet it is," he said, confidently settling into the back of his chair.

Using my back to push open the door, I backed Artie into the room. The interior was still very rough, with even a few leftover screws left on the ground from the night be-fore's building session, but with the crib erect on the opposite wall – the room at least _resembled _a nursery.

"Okay," I said turning him one hundred-eighty degrees. "You can open your eyes now."

"W-what's this?" He asked, un-shielding his eyes.

"It's…a crib," I said squatting down next to his right wheel.

"And it's very nice, really, but…why should I be surprised? W-we _do_ have a baby after all."

"Take a closer look."

I stayed squatted as she pushed himself forward twice towards the dark oak structure. He touched one of his hands to one of the doors, and fiddled with the baby proof latch before running that same hand back and forth along the length of the mattress with a smile.

"I-I don't know what to say."

"Just imagine," I said, standing up and matching his placement in the room. "In a month, she'll sleep right where your hand is."

"And I'll be able to comfort her when she cries, or put her down for a nap – effortlessly."

I could almost see his visions play back in the blue of his eyes. We were young, maybe even a bit naive about what raising a child really would be like, but I still couldn't wait for her to come home and make those visions come true.


	18. Reflection

**A/N: A little on the short side, this one, but I hope you'll like it anyways. Sorry about taking so long to update. The ideas are strong for the next (and final) two, so hopefully my updates will pick up a bit. Much love, and thanks for reading.  


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**On the one month anniversary of Gracie's chaotic entrance into the world, it amazed me how far she had really came. It really took a step back from the whole picture to appreciate every inch towards her recovery. However, it was those small things that kept me in check – like the day she stayed awake long enough for us to see her eyes wander widely at their surroundings. Every pull forward was a blessing in itself.

On the subject of godparents, truthfully, I wanted every member of our close-nit high school group to be responsible for Gracie, God forbid something were to happen to Artie or me. However, because of her unnecessary, although appreciated, kindness towards me – Quinn was my first choice. She was completely flabbergasted by the while idea when I asked her to be Gracie's godmother, but alas, she cheerfully agreed to the responsibility.

Because her stability was significantly higher than before, visitors other than immediate family were permitted. That month, I asked Quinn to come along during our afternoon visit. Also, Mercedes was invited because I had promised her a visit with little Gracie before her departure to New York City with her partner in crime – Kurt Hummel.

"She's got your nose," Mercedes observed with a smile.

"She has her _everything_," Artie protested from afar. He insisted that Gracie inherited none of his physical characteristics because of my "super Korean genes", which on the outside may have been true, but she definitely took on her father's courage and strength.

"Tina…show me where the little girls room is?" Quinn asked. "I had a large coffee with breakfast."

"Of course," I said, handing over the fortress to Artie with a glance. He rolled around Mercedes to the incubator and took the place of my hand inside. I squeezed his shoulder sensibly before guiding Quinn out of the maze like NICU.

"The bathroom's right here," I said, coming to a halt as Quinn continued forward.

"I just needed out of there," she coldly said, turning around with her arms folded over her paisley patterned chest.

"Totally understand," I started, with a quick raise of my eyebrows.

"Are you glad you kept her?"

"Gracie? Of course…I mean, I came awfully close to giving her up, but that would have been a terrible mistake," I said.

She took a deep breath as she moistened her lips and looks down at her brown leather ballerina flats. That's when I realized what I just said, and whom I just said it to.

"Oh Quinn, I didn't mean it like that," I said shaking my head.

"I know; it's okay. I had it coming," she shrugged. "It just makes me wonder about Beth."

"You would have been a great mother," I said, putting my hand on Quinn's shoulder.

"I should go," she said after a pause, as she adjusted her shoulder bag. "This hurts too much."

And so I returned to the NICU alone – I knew there was no convincing her to stay. With the baby in his arms, and cradled in the quilt passed down from father to daughter, Artie and Mercedes exchanged knowing glances. I shrugged with a sigh and stepped up next to Artie. Maybe when I had him trained in the art of diaper changing and formula heating, I'd help Quinn find Beth. Looking down at my own daughter, I sympathized for her loss.

"Wanna hold her?" I asked, looking up at Mercedes, in an attempt to boost the overall mood of the room.

"I'd love to," she replied

"Just be really gentle, and support her head-" Artie said handing Gracie over to Mercedes.

"Okay dad," she lightly chuckled.

"She's beautiful," Mercedes said once Grace was securely cradled in her arms.

"Glad you like my work," Artie nodded with a proud smile.

By the time Mercedes left, Gracie was over-exhausted from so much outside exposure. She did the cutest little yawn with her gummy mouth before falling asleep right in my arms.

"Goodnight baby," I said kissing her forehead, before placing her back soundly into her incubator. "Mommy loves you."

"Daddy too," Artie added in.

I signed us both out, considering I was the only one elevated enough to reach the front desk, before getting behind Artie's wheelchair and pushing him outside. Although it was the middle of July, the air was bitter. It was dark outside, with only the moon and high columned light structures lighting the way to the car. Mom had let me borrow the compact for the day for easy visitation.

"My house or yours," I asked.

"How about we go out tonight. I don't know, Breadsticks or something? My treat."

"Oh I don't know, Art, I'm tired," I said.

"I miss having you to myself," he sweetly argued.

"That's something we'll have to get used to, Art. We have a baby now," I said.

"Please? Just one more date night," he persuaded after a pause.

"Okay," I gave in with a chuckle. "One more date night."


	19. How Sweet the Sound

**A/N: I really don't know what to say here...except for the fact that this is the last real chapter of _Amazing Grace_. The last installment will be an epilogue from Artie's point of view - and that's all I'm giving away about that. Hopefully that won't take more then a week or two, so see you then, and enjoy!**

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Ironically, Gracie's release date lined up with the week of August 7th – her initial due date. By then, our at home nursery was finished, as with my full move downstairs. Not only that, but the whole Cohen-Chang household was baby proofed…which was basically going backwards from making things wheelchair assessable. However, I almost feared taking the tiny little life, Artie and I called our own, from the place she was the most secure. The months prior had been easy in the sense that it wasn't us taking care of her every need. To be honest, I wasn't sure if we were ready because of those few months of security. Having a good supply of diapers and a stack of baby books was one thing, but knowing what we were actually doing was another.

She had come a long way from her two pounds, ten ounces self, and being able to fit in her father's outstretched palms. But even so, her strengths didn't range much beyond a newborn. It was hoped that from there, she could begin a normal life without having to depend on machines for survival.

"Is she really ours to keep?" I smiled, softly rocking Grace back and forth in my arms as I sat in the love-seat in front of the oversized picture window that overlooked the living room.

"Only until her eighteenth birthday," Artie responded, cupping his chin in the palm of his hand.

"I don't even want to _begin _to think that far ahead," I chuckled.

A thin line of a smile appeared on his face as his gaze switched from me, down to our daughter. The arm holding up his face stretched out across the armrest of the couch to Gracie where his fingers curled themselves around her footie-pajama covered foot.

"I'll be right back," he said picking up his head.

I quickly nodded him on before focusing my attention back to the baby in my arms. Her eyes were open, and between the almond shaped spaces, her pupils shifted as she gazed up at me. Bringing a hand of to her mouth, she began to suck at the back of a few fingers with her gummy lips – she was hungry. Securing her in my arms, I prepared to make the short journey to the kitchen. However, before I could get up, Artie rolled around the corner – a collection of things in his lap, one being an armature video camera.

"Oh Artie no…I look a mess," I said shaking my head as he returned to his previous spot at the end of the couch.

"It's not going to be her first day home forever," he said, flipping open the LCD screen. "And we're recording."

"What do you want me to say?" I asked, looking around the room.

"Well let's start out with…who is that beautiful little girl cradled in your arms?"

"This – is Gracie Annette Cohen-Chang Abrams…and she's _very_ hungry and would be appreciative if her father would prepare a bottle in the kitchen so mommy doesn't have to get up."

"In a minute, Tee," Artie said, zooming in on the baby.

"_Artie put down the camera._"

"Okay, okay," he chuckled.

As Artie meddled around the kitchen, I hummed to Gracie to keep the antsy baby calm. I tried breast-feeding her several times at the hospital, but always felt overly exposed with practically half of the hospital staff observing me to I switched to bottles. I'd try again once we were all settled, for I kind of liked the bonding, but it wasn't a day for experimentation.

"Did you test it on your wrist?" I asked as he returned with the bottle wedged between his thighs.

"Why would I do that?"

"To make sure it's not too hot," I responded.

"I'm supposed to heat it up?"

"_Oh boy_," I mumbled, looking out of the corners of my eyes. "Just hurry up before she starts crying."

"Right…okay, I got this."

I looked down at Gracie – even she somehow looked doubtful. Luckily my dad intervened on his way out to the store and taught Artie how to properly heat a bottle before she got too upset. She suckled quietly with little effort on my part, and until she was finished, daytime TV screened softly to the left.

"If I put her down for a nap, could you place this in the sink and meet me in the nursery?" I asked, holding the nearly empty baby bottle out to Artie.

"Yeah, sure," he replied taking the clear plastic structure from my hands.

The nursery was a completely new environment for her…especially with the drastic color change from gruesome grays, whites, and blues to pastel pinks and yellows. However, there were a few familiar objects spread about – like Artie's baby quilt neatly spread out between the walls of her crib or the picture of Artie and I that stayed with her in the hospital when we couldn't.

"She asleep?" Artie whispered, entering the room.

"Just tucked her in," I said, turning away from the crib, lightly leaning my back against it.

"It's nice to have her home," he said rolling up to the crib and tilting his head to the side with a smile.

Leaving father and daughter to each others company, I slipped away to freshen up. I hadn't taken a shower that morning, and to be perfectly honest, I felt disgusting…plus Mother Nature's aches and pains were catching up with me. The fresh supply of bath gel was too tempting – and I figured since Gracie was sleeping, Artie would be okay without me for a while, so I decided on a hot bath.

With steam coming from the water's surface, and bubbles also floating along the top, I stepped into the water one foot at a time. I slowly waterlogged the rest of my body, giving my skin time to adjust, until I was covered head to toe with bubbles. Only when I was completely relaxed, did the baby start to cry. With a groan, I submerged my head underwater, but unfortunately when I surfaced – her screaming persisted, if not louder than before.

Grabbing the towel I put out beforehand, I dragged myself from my spa. Imagining Artie's panic, I quickly patted myself down, and threw on my mother's white fluffy bathrobe before making my way down the hall. However, the second I approached the door; open just enough to peek inside, Gracie's cries come to a stop.

Instead, a soft melody filled the void. Securing the two halves of the bathrobe across my chest, I peered inside in almost disbelief. There with his back partially towards me, and little Gracie in his arms, in the sweetest tone I had ever heard – he sang to her:

_Amazing grace, how sweet the sound - that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now I'm found, was blind, but now I see. 'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieve. How precious did that grace appear - the hour I first believed._


	20. Epilogue

**A/N: Well guys...here's the end of a very long road. I can't believe this is the last installment. I'll probably be hit with the 'I can't believe it's over"** **s by the end of the night. Can I just say how much I appreciate all the support you've all given this story? Thank you so, so much for reading! Hopefully I won't be on a writing hiatus for too long, and will be back with something brand new in a couple months. So until then - here's the epilogue of _Amazing Grace. (By the way, it IS in Artie's POV)._**

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_**My days of waking up to the same annoying sound at the same god-awful time every morning were over. On one hand, the twelve years of imprisonment that would later be the best years of my life were though…but on the other – I had a daughter of three and a half months that was anything but routine.

As her high-pitched wails echoed though the house, forcing my crusty and dark circled eyes to open, I looked over at Tina from the cot stuffed in the corner of the downstairs bedroom we shared together. She didn't even budge. It was like she subconsciously knew it was my turn to check on the baby – either that or she was overly exhausted from her previous encounter, the more likely option.

I missed her. Granted, I basically moved in to the Cohen-Chang household to help Tina with the baby – but it wasn't about us anymore. I slept on a cot because Tina's bed was pressed against the wall – and crawling over a person without waking them wasn't an easy task for a paraplegic.

Reaching for my glasses with one arm and my wheelchair with the other, I started the process of getting out of bed. The sun was up and came in though the sole window at the end of Tina's bed, leaving a trail of light across the floor, almost splitting the room in two. However, I crossed that barrier in my wheelchair before softly kissing Tina's forehead and making my way across the hall to the nursery.

"Hey now, it's all right," I said adjusting her in my arms. "Daddy's here."

The thing about infants, as Tina and I quickly learned, was that you could never pinpoint what they were exactly upset about. It isn't like an adult who could easily communicate that they are cold, hungry, or dirty. Except for her little baby cues, which Tina picked up on better anyways, it was basically guess work…kind of like a starting a puzzle with many pieces and not knowing where to begin.

Lucky for me, she seemed to be simply lonely. I only knew this because after five minutes of rocking her back and forth, humming classic Beatles songs, she stopped crying and settled in my arms.

Though out Tina's pregnancy, though more in the beginning, I remember wishing that we were more careful, that she really wasn't with child and it was just a dream. However, holding little Gracie in my arms changed my tune to a certain extent because I was happy to have her in my life, but bringing her in to the world so early in our lives made me wonder.

Before the end of the school year, I found out that I had been accepted into three of the colleges I applied to. One was the _extremely _competitive Ivy League up in New York that I wanted to get into, and the others were just back-up schools just in case Cornell didn't work out. Unfortunately, I had to turn all three down. In fact, I lied to Tina about getting into my collage and told her once we had more things figured out, I'd just go a few years at Lima's community college. It was a big sacrifice, but for the little girl in my arms and the girl I loved, it was worth it.

I was snapped out of my train of thought by one of Gracie's high-pitched squeals for attention. My silence was boring her. There was no way she was going back to sleep, so I looked around the room for something to aid me in her amusement. That's when the picture of Tina and I upon the dresser caught my eye.

"How about a story?" I asked tilting my head to the side, and stroking her chubby little arm with my index finger.

"On my mothers side of the family, I was the only boy out of four grandchildren – so before my grand, your _great_ grand mother passed, she set her wedding ring to go to me so that one day I could give it to my own someone special. It's been in my family for generations, and until last week, my mom had been keeping it safe for me."

I held her out by her arm pits only about a nose and a half away, "Now Grace Annette Cohen-Chang Abrams, what I'm about to tell you is top secret information and you can't tell _anybody_…not even mommy."

She blinked twice.

"But that very ring is in a black velvet box hidden under my pillow, and every night I go to sleep I wonder when I'll finally have the time to put it to good use and…"

"Artie? Artie what are you doing to our baby?"

"_Tina_!" I swallowed. "Oh…um…well…just having some _important _father-daughter time."

"Right," she said, narrowing her eyes as she walked further into the room. Tina reached out her arms, and I cogently handed Gracie over to her.

"Good morning baby," she smiled bouncing her up and down gently with her knees.

"Hey Tee, I'll be right back, I gotta make a phone call," I said, unlocking my wheels after watching mom and baby interact.

"It's 8:00am, who could you be _possibly_ calling?"

"Just back home," I answered.

"Any particular reason?"

"I don't know…I was just gonna…see if my mom could...watch Gracie tonight."


End file.
